Tuesday, January 4, 2011

My Guilty Conscience

So apparently, I have a really, really guilty conscience.  I have no idea why.  I am so straight-laced I even bore myself sometimes.  But yesterday I was driving along and a cop materialized from nowhere and followed me for a good 15 miles.          

From the moment he appeared in my rear view mirror, a dewy mist of perspiration formed on my upper lip and my heart began racing.  As I white-knuckled the steering wheel, highly aware of my '10 and 2' grip, I turned off the music, told the kids to quiet down, and sincerely focused on my driving like I was14, and in Driver's Ed once again.  To add insult to injury, this wasn't a regular city cop--this was the Sheriff.  He even had one of those weird hats with the chin strap that look like a Canadian Mountie's--minus the majesty of the horse, and the Canadian.  

Anyway, relief didn't come until he finally raced around me and sped off, no doubt bored with my safe driving or late for a donut eating appointment at the local coffee shop, where he could find his cop-cronies and plot ways to make other unsuspecting citizens sweat on demand.  Whatever the reason, I was glad he was gone.  But it made me wonder...

Why do I automatically hit the brakes when I see the man in blue?

I am about as law abiding as you can get.  I drive the speed limit.  I wear a seat belt.  I never text while driving.  I don't use drugs--unless you count Advil p.m. (which I don't.)  I've never been arrested.  I don't drink.  I return library books on time and I even like jury duty--stop laughing, and don't judge--it's like watching a train wreck.
Anyway, to make it short, there is no reason under heaven that I should give pause when a cop drives by, but I do.  It is one of the great mysteries of my life that I'm not sure I will ever solve. 

This morning, I made my way along the street a speedy pace after dropping the kids off at school.  I was really moving.  Just as I came to an incomplete stop at the light, a cop drove by.  My heart began racing, sweat bloomed on my upper lip.  I paused, and then remembered...

I was walking.



What makes your palms sweat and your heart race?

E-mail me at squaretoothedgirl@gmail.com or leave your comments here.  
Please join us in celebrating the simple moments of everyday life! 


1 comment:

  1. Haha love it Lisa!!
    As for me it's Math, I can't even write about it, think about it, or contemplate it without my heart racing, even know my heart is fluttering and I am frantically trying to remember everything...

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