I am alive, dear reader. And that’s a precious thing.
The roads coming home from work this morning were about as bad as I’ve ever seen them. There was snow, and ice under the snow, and a terrific wind that was blowing snow around and causing practically zero visibility. My car went off the road three times. The first time I went flying over a ditch and fifty feet or so into a field, breaking off my tailpipe in the process. The second time I skidded into the ditch. The third time I skidded into the ditch again, nearly broadsiding a telephone pole in the process. Then I got back on the road again and less than two minutes later, when I braked, the car slid into the other lane and spun around 180 degrees and I almost got creamed by a passing semi. Miraculously, somehow I did make it home in one piece and without having to change my pants, and the only damage to the car is the tailpipe which is easily fixed.
Did I mention how glorious life is? How wonderful it is to be breathing air and to have a beating heart and to be able to sit at my computer and listen to music and blog and writing about missing persons?
This post has nothing to do with missing people, mind.