I have a presentation at the university, and I need to haul about 35 pounds of crap with me. Usually I come home before going to night class, but the weather is horrible today. The forecasters predict sloppy and icy conditions, so I pack everything up to take with me in the morning, including a change of pants and warm socks for later.
But I need to get some cash for dinner since I'm not coming home, so I plan on hitting the ATM at the bank.
Then I realize that I could potentially be stuck in crazy snow-moron traffic, when people don't know how to drive, so I decide to fill the gas tank.
And, oh shit, yeah, it's trash day.
Crap, I forgot to pack my lunch.
Guess what? the car windows are iced over, so I have to warm up the car.
As I am rattling all of this off in my head, I am glancing at the clock. Why is it that every time I believe in my heart I will get an early start, I end up leaving either right on time or about ten minutes late? Why, why, why?
Finally I am ready to go. I pack the heavy backpack full of the presentation materials in the car when I take the trash out and start the car defrosting. I remember to keep my wallet handy for both the bank and the gas station. I put the spare clothes in my work bag so I'll have them to change in to if I decide it'll be a jeans type of commute.
I'm ready to leave! By god, I'm ready to leave and I'm right on time...
What is that?! What the hell is that? Ant? ANT? In my kitchen? On my counter? Sonofabitch.
I kill the ant. Then there's another one. I kill it, too. I walk toward the bathroom to brush my teeth so I can get out the door when I see another ant. I smack it senseless with paper towel and go throw the whole thing away. There on the sink is another goddamned ant.
At this point I am just pissed, so I start smacking the ant with my bare palm. Then another ant. BAM! Then another one. BAM BAM! Where the hell are these ants coming from? It's 20 frikkin' degrees outside. It's winter. Die, ants, die on your own already.
I forgot to brush my teeth. Damnit. I need to wash my hands because now they have ant guts all over them. I wash my hands with soap about a half dozen times then brush.
I finally get out the door to do my ATM and gas station errands. I am leaving at about 7:02, which is my normal time of departure. If only I hadn't had to run around with the trash and the toothbrush and the ants, I would've left with long minutes to spare.
I am halfway to work when I come across a bad car accident. It is in my normal travel lane, southbound on 28 heading toward Boston. The ambulance and police and fire department (and probably half of the town's residents) arrive, and it is clear that the whole scene is about six minutes old.
Six minutes.
If I had left my house six minutes sooner, that smashed up car in the middle of the wreckage might've been me.
Thank you, ants! You saved my life! (Well, that and being disorganized, but I digress.)
