My mother is downstairs calling everybody, receiving calls, and gossiping away. There was a crash on Route 107 (initially she was told that it was on the Casey Highway [or maybe it was business Route 6] which is on the opposite side of the valley) -- a "bad accident" as she phrased it. It was so bad that a helicopter had to land at a church hall in East Jermyn in order to get the injured person(s) to the hospital as soon as possible. I think she lives for these events sometimes. These horrific events, reality television, and yelling at me -- that's her livelihood in a nutshell. There's nothing better than going downstairs to brush my teeth or to grab a bowl of chips and see my mother and grandmother watching television and having debates about what color the girl's dress is on Dancing with the Stars. However, accidents, like these, do highly concern me. I believe I adopted this trait from my mother, which is that whenever I hear about a crash or some other type of accident, I immediately start to fear and have anxiety about if one of the people in the crashes is somebody that I love and care for or is a good friend of mine. Even if I'm not friends with somebody but I still know them, I don't want to wish that anybody gets hurt in such a terrifying way as an accident. Actually, upon hearing of the wreck, my first instinct would normally be to call Lauren to check up on her (unless I was originally talking to her -- then I would know that she was safe at home or wherever), but I know that she's at softball practice at the school and not out on the road. This wreck also instills fear in me because the place of the accident, Route 107 near the gas station, is a spot where I drove by with my father on my way to visit Lauren for a quick minute only two hours ago. What happens if I went two hours later?
My mind is nuts like that. I scare and worry myself all the time. For example, I have been stressing so much about my road test on Friday that I'm about to flip. I should have no reason to be concerned. I drove fine today for almost two hours. However, whenever I go out driving with my driving instructor who goes by the name of Driver Dan, I get nervous and make a few mistakes. I was a mess on Monday. I screwed up parallel parking a few times, forgot to turn off my blinker a few times, ran over an ocean of potholes, had two different mishaps at this one stop sign (I swear that his brakes need to be readjusted), forgot to turn on my blinkers before regular parking (I always remember to do so for parallel parking), and . . . ugh. Not a good day at all. I'm going out again tomorrow so hopefully I can make up for Monday. I'm not fond of his car and I have to use the same one for Friday. I like my PT Cruiser . . . not that blue thing with bad brakes that he owns.
I best be gone. I have supper ready for me on the table. It'll get cold soon. Have a good one!