So I'm sitting here, minding my own business, when I get this e-mail from my church asking if I can help out with a project tomorrow.
Having nothing better to do, I agree. Besides, it's for the church, right? That's like helping God. How do you say "no" to God?
Turns out the project involves getting a rental truck and driving down to southern Maryland tomorrow morning to pick up some furniture. OK, I'm good with that. I used to be a truck driver back in my college days and I can handle that. I still have my collection of Jerry Reed and Johnny Cash tapes around here somewhere. We're good.
Of course it entails running down I-270 and around the Beltway in morning rush-hour traffic, but I've made worse runs in my time--and it's for the church--so I accept the job. I'm the guy.
Then I find out that the minister will be riding down with me in the cab.
While I drive a truck in rush hour traffic.
Surrounded by oblivious idiots, morons, and dumbasses in cars.
Anyone who has ever ridden in a car or truck with me knows how vocal and descriptive I get when it comes to people who can't or won't pull their heads out of their asses and drive right.
And the minister will be sitting right next to me.
I might as well just go straight to Hell tonight. I'm so doomed...