A narrow miss and a sense of perspective

This morning on the way to work, I very narrowly escaped a fender bender. A woman pulled out from a side-street in front of me without looking. I braked and swerved, she slammed on her brakes, and we coasted by each other with about an inch to spare. I actually thought she had hit me at first, and stopped to check the damage. She stopped on the side street as well and I went over to talk with her. She apologized and I asked if she was okay. She said she was, but had to stop to "give herself a minute" to recover from the adrenaline.

I'm glad I was nice to her. I thought she had hit me and I was feeling pissy about it. But when I went around to survey the damage, there was none. We dodged the bullet. I wished her a good day and went on my way. It's not a nice way to start the day, but it was nice to get that reprieve. Sort of puts things into perspective for you. Makes you appreciate the travails you don't have. Like accidentally setting your alarm to go off at 6 a.m. on a Saturday. You're pissed that you got woken up, but it's so nice to hear the alarm and realize you don't have to get up, that it's almost worth it.

Perhaps in some parallel universe, I'm calling my insurance agent today. But not in this one. Not this time.

I had to drop off some bookmarks at the downtown library on my way to work for their summer reading program. So after my near-miss, I went on downtown, arriving in front of the library at 8:45 a.m. I climbed out, opened the back of my car and heaved this 40-pound box of bookmarks out in a 30-mile-an-hour freezing wind, staggering to the front doors with it while simultaneously trying to keep my skirt from pulling a Marilyn Monroe on me right there are Dean A. McGee Street.

Alas, the library does not open until 9 a.m. So I schlepped the box back to the car, climbed in out of the wind and waited. Over the next ten minutes, I listened to Eldest on cd and watched the homeless people converge on the library's entrance, waiting for it to open up so they could spend the day in the warmth, surfing the internet or sleeping in chairs. At 9 a.m. the doors slid open and we all entered together -- me and my box and the homeless people and their various knapsacks, plastic bags, rotten sneakers and all. Another opportunity for perspective on my lot in life.

Lately I've been feeling a little old and tired and used up. Chances are I'm not going to be rich or famous. Watching those folks congregating around the library entrance has to make you think about how spoiled you are. How lucky. Oh, was I agonizing about the meaning of my existence? I'll stop that now.