Obliteration

The smashing-crash impact of the vehicle speeding behind me hitting the bag of items I’d left on the roof of my car in the dark with its bumper rocketed me into a new emergency.

Pulling over into the middle lane as cars wooshed and sloshed past me, whipping the rain’s moist buffeting air against me and the car at night was unnerving.

Luckily, no accident was caused – just pulverized glass, the last bundle of my business cards, proof of dogs’s vaccinations, and paperwork I’d spent hours collecting that I had readied for faxing.

The gecko lamp and bulb worth $35-40 that didn’t work, and the dog bark spray refills of citrinella we couldn’t stand would have refunded money.

A few empty bottles of No. 1 Rosemary Water (TM) I’d intended to add to the three bags ready for recycling didn’t make it – except one jagged body missing its neck.

One mistake from overwhelm obliterated this afternoon’s efforts.

Luckily, no one was hurt – and I felt stupid being out there timing the cars, trying to not get decapitated in the headlights as I bent over in attempts to scrape papers stuck to wet pavement.

I had to leave most of them out there, strewn across the road, recognizing that I could not retrieve them in that dangerous situation, and that likely they’d be unrecognizable by the morning.

Though any cleanup crew, police officer, or on-foot passerby later investigating might receive free marketing for my services.

And by grace, my parents’ mail I’d saved to send to them remained intact and sealed it its plastic bag.

This one task, I could finish for them this evening.

But maybe, I should wait until tomorrow.