OR...

You have got to be shitting me.

Dateline: December 30, 2006

Long Island - Tommy (my dear brother and partner in crime) is in my passenger seat as we prepare to leave WalMart in Riverhead. We sit, first in line at the light, waiting for it to change. As the Westbound turn lane signal goes red, a truck tries to squeeze through, at which point it is struck by an east bound car. The back of the truck gets spun around into the front of my poor, dear Gretchen (my Jetta). Airbags deploy, and my brother emerges from his second accident in 78 hours. This time, it is I who was immobilized by emergency responders. A few hours later, I leave the hospital with a bruised sternum, a sore back, aches, and a very grateful family.

Vehicular Vehicle-Slaughter

My bro's car. We went to the lot today to clean it out. He is lucky to be alive.

I also went to the doctor's office today, got my note clearing me to go back to work. Starting on Friday, life goes back to normal.

Crash (Not The Market, Don't Panic)

My life doesn't want to let me get into any kind of comfortable rhythm. I received a call from my uncle Bill.

In this call, he told me not to be alarmed, but that my brother Tommy had been in a car accident, his car had been run off the road by a truck, had flipped and rolled, and came to a rest upside down, and that Tommy had emerged from the car with only minor cuts and bruises. The kicker? It happened less than two miles from my branch.

OK, Sarah, what's God trying to tell me now?

Never Ask "What Next," Because Invariably, Some Smart Ass Deity Is Gonna Show You

So, apparently, I'm NOT back to work. When my boss saw me at work today, she asked "what are you doing back?" I told her I was all better. But apparently, what I didn't know, is that the doctor who put me on disability had to clear me to return. So I went home early, and made an appointment to see the doc. I should have the note by tomorrow. Then maybe, JUST MAYBE, I can get back to living my life!

Back In Black (Suit)

I am back to work as of today. The past three months have been pretty tough for me, between the death of my father, contracting some strange fatigue disease, and regular visits to my shrink, Dr. Milano (and no, her first name is not Cookie). But I am feeling a little better, a little more rested. It's tough waking up in the mornings with the effects of the sleeping pills still working on me, but I only work 30 seconds from my house, so I make due.

I am eager to get back to some semblance of normalcy, so I can show my boss what I'm like when the world isn't crushing me down into scrap.