Someone upstairs or something is trying to kill me. They have not succeeded yet, but I gotta wonder.
Last week it was a BMW on I-195; it hit my car so hard that I spun around two or three times, bounced off the guard rail, and popped back into oncoming traffic in the middle lane. By some miracle I was not then hit by another car or, gulp, a truck. I loved that car and only owned if for year or so; it is now a pile of junk. I have not recovered yet; I still have headaches and various pains and bump & bruises.
Last summer it was a guy drag racing on Hixbridge Rd who t-boned me at high speed and wrecked my previous Honda Fit. He drove off, but left his license plate at the scene and was quickly apprehended by the Westport police.
Before that it was prostate cancer, but I am in remission and currently my PSA is a very satisfying 0.0. I am still really messed up because of the cancer drug (Lupron) but that should be out of my system in 4-5 months.
Before that, I chain sawed my foot when in the woods. Luckily the wound was not too deep and I did not bleed out in the woods. St. Ann’s hospital patched my up with 22 stiches and now the foot is fine. The bright side of the chainsaw accident was that I wrote my book while in bed.
Someone or something is trying kill me. Except for the chainsaw pedicure, none of these disasters were my fault.
Maybe it is one of my siblings with a voodoo doll. Maybe not; but I am still on this side of the grass. So take that!