Yeah, that’s what’s been on my mind the past few days. First, a little public service announcement about merge lanes. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, LEARN HOW TO USE THEM. This morning, I was merging onto the highway when I came upon a car stopped in the merge lane. Let me be clear. There were holes in traffic. This twit was waiting for all the traffic to disappear before merging. This, this is NOT how God intended for merge lanes to be used. Merge means you…well…merge. You slip your car into traffic. It’s actually incredibly dangerous for you to stop in the merge lane. Why? Because I might drive over you! Seriously, people, if you’re afraid of other cars, you’re a dangerous driver. There’s a difference between being a defensive driver and a scared driver. A scared driver is one who’s afraid of other cars, who needs a totally open road to merge, turn right, turn left or otherwise get into traffic. YOU, yes, you, are the more dangerous driver because you impede traffic, you brake check and cause a pile up, and you slow down dramatically at times it’s not necessary to do so. I’m not asking you to break any traffic laws, I’m asking you to get confident, stop being afraid. Be a defensive driver but be an assertive driver. Otherwise, take a bus.
Yesterday I was on the phone with Jane when someone knocked on the door. I thought it was the post man. Jaci would yell at me for not checking the peephole (because I’ve had some real characters show up at my door) but, uhh…I don’t have one. And I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t home. I was talking on the phone, and I’m sure they could hear me! So I got off the phone and answered the door. Two men wearing nametags from the Church of Latter Day Saints stood there. They seemed nice enough (though one did have a gold tooth right in front that flashed in the sun every time he smiled. His accent was cute though). They were young. And they wanted to come in and talk to me about Jesus.
Or so they said. I mean, come on. I edit fiction. I read a lot. They could have been serial killers. Or rapists. Or maybe they just wanted to come in and talk to me about Jesus. But how do I know? They did ask if they could “come in” and talk with me. I said no. I always close the door and step onto the porch when I answer the door. I don’t want to make it easy for anyone to push their way in. But I got to thinking about what a perfect cover some religious literature and a few name tags are for someone wanting to check out my house and see if we have valuables. Someone wanting to slice my body into tiny little pieces.
Yes, these are the things that occupy my mind when I should be editing.