the miracle

I woke up one hour late for Saturday work. I had planned to wake up at my usual 7:15AM so that I could be out the door by 8AM or so. For whatever reason, my phone's alarm didn't wake me. I had either turned it off when it first rang, or it had never rung. Either way, I peeled my eyes open, already instinctively suspicious that I was waking up late, and saw that the time was 8:05AM. In theory, I needed to be on the road by 8:15.

"Fuck!" I declared to no one. My mind raced. The last time I had stayed at Sean's place, I had discovered that YB Near was only 35 minutes away in decent traffic. Because it was Saturday morning, I assumed that traffic would be good-- no rush hour to worry about. This meant I had until 8:25AM to get my big ass ready for a 9AM start at work.

I brushed my teeth, slapped on my contacts, and pooped in record time. I showered quickly (about four minutes, which isn't as quick as the classic one-minute Army shower), dressed in my informal Saturday duds (much faster than dressing in my normal battle regalia of slacks, button-down shirt, tie, and tie pin), and was out of Sean's condo by 8:26AM. I was gambling that I would be, at most, a minute or two late.

Traffic turned out to be beautiful. It was a bright, clear Saturday morning, and nothing impeded my progress. Route 395 South to 495 North was unblocked; 495 to 66 West was smooth sailing; 66 West to the YB Near exit was problem-free. I even passed two police cars along the way, but despite the slow-down those cars caused, I still made it to the tutoring center with, miraculously, five minutes to spare.

No sweat, right?


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