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Soon came a day when the bottle was broken
I have just walked home from Brattle Street. This is the second car accident I've been in in less than a week. The first was a friend's car and an off-duty cop's, this latest was the bus to Arlington Heights and an overeager SUV, and in neither case was I driving—fortunately, neither was anyone injured, although my neck may sue me for damages if I keep this up. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muchabstracted recently informed me that the prophet Elijah is one of the patron saints of motorists. Frankly, I feel like their Jonah.
Last night I dreamed for the first time in almost a month that I can remember. I was Death, in a candlelit synagogue, with a dark robe and a sword. I don't remember who I had come for. I think there was a wedding taking place.
As I walked back around the Arlington Res, I passed three teenagers and a black dog on a leash. The dog had just been barking enthusiastically after a jogger, such that its owner had to keep it from dashing after her. I walked past and suddenly it whined and cowered back against the boy. I've never had that reaction from a dog before.
If I were writing a story, I would make something of this. Instead, I think I'm going to call the number the bus driver gave me. And then maybe collapse.
muchabstracted recently informed me that the prophet Elijah is one of the patron saints of motorists. Frankly, I feel like their Jonah.Last night I dreamed for the first time in almost a month that I can remember. I was Death, in a candlelit synagogue, with a dark robe and a sword. I don't remember who I had come for. I think there was a wedding taking place.
As I walked back around the Arlington Res, I passed three teenagers and a black dog on a leash. The dog had just been barking enthusiastically after a jogger, such that its owner had to keep it from dashing after her. I walked past and suddenly it whined and cowered back against the boy. I've never had that reaction from a dog before.
If I were writing a story, I would make something of this. Instead, I think I'm going to call the number the bus driver gave me. And then maybe collapse.
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(My perpetual whining is due substantially to a car accident fourteen years ago.)
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Thanks. I have a massive crick in my neck this morning, but I think that's more a function of how I slept than any automotive malice.
(My perpetual whining is due substantially to a car accident fourteen years ago.)
Ergh. What happened?
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