I have angered the traffic gods

Although my commute takes place down a road with 45 - 55 mph posted speed limits, I rarely am able to drive it entirely at those speeds. Sure, some spots are smooth sailing, but at certain merges, interchanges, and other hot spots, I can expect to slow down to 25 - 35 mph on a daily basis. On my commute home, this is often a full third of the route. C'est la vie in Washington, DC.

About... oh, once a month, I can expect to encounter an accident. Now, while I'm very very thankful that I'm not in the accident, it's still aggravating to sit in the traffic. At this point, I've mostly come to accept it. I can recognize the signs that this is more than just heavy volume, I know that I have no alternate route (til I get to Exit A, anyway), so I put some good music on the radio and chill.

In the past two weeks there have been 3 accidents and 1 police action of some sort along the commute, and two cases of volume so heavy that I bailed off the highway at Exit A just as soon as I could.

In fact, this morning I left well before 6:30am for the first time in like a month. Traffic should have been light. I joked to the Dear Husband that I should get to work early, barring an accident. What were the odds, after all, that there would be another incident en route?

Three-car collision in the left lane under an overpass, with no shoulder to get the damaged vehicles onto. Me and my big mouth.

Walk the line

To walk or not to walk; that is the question.
Whether tis nobler to sit through College Park graduation day traffic
And a two-hour ceremony
Or take my family out to lunch. To duck, to split -
And by playing hooky, avoid the aggravation. Ay, there's the rub,
For who knows what regrets may come
That this opportunity to mark my years of labor
Would be missed? There's the respect that comes with the degree,
With that pomp of hood and gown. Who would the graduation bear,
With its long speeches and tedious waiting, but that they anticipate
That glad moment when, before the throng,
They pass into a new country wherein they are called "Doctor."
And thus the native hue of resolution
To buck tradition and be sensible
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And an afternoon of pleasant leisure
With this regard their currents turn awry.