No, not the Dave Matthews song, and not either of the movies (the David Cronenberg, sex-in-crashed-cars silliness, nor the new one with Sandra Bullock, Matt Dillon and so on). An actual car crash that has now brought the total cars in my household down to one.
Both of the car crashes of the past year have been at the hands--the darling, adorable hands--of my eighteen year old daughter. I believe that new rules for driving are in order.
The main thing for you to know is that if you have no car, you cannot go anywhere except on foot. And in the suburbs, this is death. There should be a new bit of figurative language or iconography or something that equates the sneaker with death. I'm just saying, there are no quick trips anywhere.
On the other hand, there is bucolic delight in working at the kitchen table looking into the backyard where the cherry trees are blooming away and there are also daffodils and tulips. Also, certain herbs have resurged, which made their first appearance in a pasta dish on Sunday.
Updates: despite having said the playoffs were something I was looking forward to, I have watched nary a game. Maybe I'm not that excited after all. Maybe, on the other hand, unless you've got a dog in the fight, the first round, at least, are pretty much a snore. And on the other other hand, what about Houston demolishing Dallas--twice?
New poem: I began a series of prose poems last week based on my husband's reading of the
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. I feel I've read them now by proxy. I'll update you as to the progress of these new poems.
Preparing for a great upswing in grading activity. Last night, I prepared by watching quite a bit of random television.