Accident Prawn

I backed into a pick-up this morning. The driver didn’t even bother stopping, he just took a bored look at me and figured it wasn’t worth the hassle. Traffic was heavy enough for me to see that I hadn’t inflicted any damage to his vehicle (or so I’d like to think). I don’t even want to check mine just yet. This is the fourth car frou-frou I’ve had this year (all minor, not all my bad) – an awful slip from my personal zero-accident records of 1998-2003! My car, so pristine last year, is now dented and scarred (like its driver). Another thing to add to my to-do list: body repair.

Unharmed but slightly shaken, I decided I needed a Zen moment. After gassing up the car (saw dear friend Bianca, who drove through the station just to say hello, what a sweetheart), I went to my suking florist at the market. Her name is Olive. She calls me darling. I bought an armful of bright orange native irises. When I reached the house I re-cut the stems and with quiet pleasure arranged the flowers in my “default” glass cylinder (it’s the only one I own). I set them on the dining table and now I am happy again.

You do know the joke about the "accident prawn" right?