I am horrified to report that The David crash crash crashity crashed his car yesterday while coming home from Tahoe by himself. On the 80. Going 70 mph. Crash into the guardrail. Spin out. And then facing the oncoming traffic. And he has no idea why it happened.
Important take aways here:
THE DAVID IS NOT DEAD.
The David is not hurt.
No other cars crashed in to him and no one else was hurt.
Even so, I can’t think about it without feeling nervous and panicked and possibly like pooping. And I can’t stop thinking about it. Because oh my god, what if. What If?! I am refusing to actually expand upon the rest of the “what if” thought because it’s just to awful to imagine. Or talk about. Or write about.
So I’m just generically freaking out.
And now, without a car, he’s biking in to work and planning to do so indefinitely, which makes me nervous, as well. All that unprotected poppet body exposed to the elements and the automobiles!
How rather perversely horrible it is to care about someone so much that you have all this worry and fear about what the outside world might do to him. When it might be so much nicer to just stay safe in a little nest where I can make lots of macaroni and cheese and no one ever gets paper cuts.
margaret edith 