Ever go through a traffic light and wonder 100 yards away if it was green?
Ever drive half a mile, forgetting the entire time to watch the road in front of you?
I'm not sure I ever really had faculties, I mean, if we're talking about brain power, perception, or a clue, but I digress.
Monday, after a grueling day of blogging and facebook stalking, I get into my car and start toward the YMCA for my daily torture session. I fidget with the heater, the butt-warmers, and the radio. As I turn into traffic I am comletely oblivious to the thousands of pounds of metal, rubber, and fine leather upholstery coming at me in all directions because that is the exact moment I notice a cigarette lighter sticking out of the cigarette lighter hole.
Wait, I thought there was a cover on that lighter hole...
For serious, how long has that sucker been there??
Barring a joke by some prankster who is into watching absent-minded bozos in action, that cigarette lighter has been with me and my car since the beginning: two and a half years.
But this revelation does not come to me before a wave a panic swallows me whole like Jonah's whale (I teach a children's Sunday School class, these are the analogies I have to work with.)
Did I get into the wrong car?!
Because mistakenly taking the keys (in an office of 3) to an identical messy Alpine Frost 2006 Hyundai Tucson which belongs to a person who listens to the exact same radio stations programmed in the exact same order as me is totally plausible.
Eventually, I laugh at myself, call a few people who laugh at myself. Then I run through a red light...I think.