Bad things happen when you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only accident I’ve ever been in, although you could hardly call it an accident, occurred when I was driving to school later than usual because I had skipped my morning class.
Today it happened again. This morning my wife and I purposely slept in, because we had a long weekend, and on my way to work a truck kicked up a chunk of wood that hit my bumper, bounced off and then went under the car hitting who knows what. Now, anyone who knows me, knows I like to take really good care of my things, especially my car, so this made me pretty angry. But after realizing that being angry at the truck wasn’t going to do anything I started getting angry with myself. I shouldn’t have allowed myself those few extra hours of sleep. If I had been on the road at the normal time this wouldn’t have happened. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. On any normal day I wouldn’t have been there. Now, I realize that being angry at myself isn’t going to fix anything either, but it seems like it always works out this way.