This may have been the worst commuting weeks of my life. I had to take the 30 Blocks of Squalor three times in the last week due to accidents on the Schuykill Expressway. Yesterday, topped them all. 1.5 hours to get in and 1.5 hours to get out. After spending an eternity getting home last night, I had fifteen minutes to wolf down a couple pieces of pizza and then hop in the car to drive 45 minutes to my son’s hockey game.
It was the coldest freaking rink on earth. It was a rematch for Lansdale Catholic with Upper Moreland. We had kicked their asses last week 7-0. But, in the game my son was cheapshoted into the boards head first by one of their players. Before we left for the rematch I asked Kev what his number was. He said 18. I said, “you know what to do”. Avalon pleaded for peace. She doesn’t understand hockey.
He never got 18, but he did flatten another one of their players with a clean shoulder at center ice. With the score tied 3 to 3 and 5 minutes left, he scored the winning goal. Finally, my week was getting better.
I got in the car this morning and flipped on the traffic report. My heart sank when the first words were a Major Issue on the Northeast Extension. But wait. The accident on the NE extension was 5 miles above my exit. There were NO cars coming down from above my exit. NONE. NADA. I felt like Elaine after Kramer had repainted the lines on the Arthur Burkhardt highway, making huge roomy lanes.
I made it into work in 45 minutes. It’s going to be a good day. I just know it. Or, will it end like Newman’s day. Oh the humanity.