A rainy day.
Not much of a revelation when it’s winter, but why is it when you have to go somewhere in a hurry, the universe knows, and tries to throw everything at you so you don’t get there on time?
I like to be punctual.
I’m one of those people who leave home to get to the airport hours before I have to because I know, from past experience, that if you leave at the time where you’d make it with an hour to spare, you would get stuck in the mother of all traffic jams.
I know this to be true. It’s happened more than once to me,
If you’re not in a hurry, you get the best run you’ve ever had. I know that’s true too, because that’s what happens most times.
It’s like when at work you’re in a hurry to get a photocopy. The machine knows if you’re stressed and picks that particular moment to break down. That use to happen to me more times that I’d had hot dinners.
Sorry, I needed to use that expression, which generally means a lot. That photocopy machine, back in the days when they were huge and almost a new fad, my task every Tuesday was to copy a 3 page shipping report, 300 odd times. Not once did I get a clean run, not in the two years it was my job.
Back to the weather.
My day to pick up one of the grandchildren from the railway station. It’s not far from our house, on any other day it would take about ten minutes, but since this is after 3 pm, I have the other school traffic to contend with, the tradies going home, and late afternoon shoppers getting dinner.
It never used to be like that. The road was a single lane that used to be blocked by floods when it rained, there was no shopping centre, and no new estates. In 30 years everything has arrived, the road expanded to two lanes either side, and almost continual traffic jams.
There’s a story there somewhere, but for the moment I have to take on the traffic. Maybe once I get to the station I might have time to consider it.