The first snow of winter was Saturday. My second major car accident was also Saturday. I was very lucky I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t even total it this time – Dad drove the car home today. It sounds like I just messed up the bumper, though I haven’t gotten a good look at it yet.
I did this on a bridge ten minutes from the airport, where I was going to to get on the plane for the JLPT; the police officer who worked the scene drove me up there. He told me that being a police officer had been his second choice to being a massage therapist. He complained that he’d been first in his massage therapy class, but ended up the only one not to get a job.
I got back at midnight Sunday night – Papaw had been waiting at the airport for me for six or seven hours, because he’d gone up to try and get in to see the car at five, but they wouldn’t let him. Papaw’s eye problems mean he’s not really supposed to be driving after dark, but I couldn’t drive the whole way because he still had to go home himself and take his medicine after he dropped me off at the house. I sat by the phone panicking and trying to figure out the most efficient way to describe places he might have wrecked to 911 operators until he called to tell me he’d made it back.
I also don’t think I passed the test.
I’m feeling vaguely mellow about the whole thing at this point, though I had several bursts of panic last night, which I wore down by intense periods of cooking, emailing people I needed to email, making fifty more kanji flashcards, cleaning the kitchen, bathroom, and litter boxes, and finishing my Christmukkougatsu shopping. But my energy is now gone. I cannot reach the kitchen to eat that stuff I made last night.