Today was like wearing a wetsuit made of sandpaper.

Everything started out fine remained that way almost all the way through. But then, the last five minutes that I was at work, one of the doctors that I work found something for me to do. Something that would not be a quick project. Something that would irk the hell out of me as I walked out the door.

The second I reached the car, I got a call from Pookie. Traffic was backed up practically all the way to my house 10 miles away and she warned me to take another route. She, not remembering how devoid I am of a sense of direction, told me what road to take. Needless to say, I took the longer, traffic-plagued road to get there, instead of the easy route which would have made sense. I became more and more irritated with the idiot drivers that infested my path and started to get a little taste of road rage. Right when traffic smoothed out and began to move in the forward direction, my the coolness of the air blowing from my vents disappeared, leaving only a warmish sort of wind. Naturally, upon realizing this, I pushed my button to roll down my window. Nope. Didn’t budge.

Just as the spatter of raindrops started to dance on my windshield, I realized just how claustrophobic I really am. And that can only be described as…frantically claustrophobic. When I finally reached the highway where the back up was said to be, I had become insane with panic. My heart was beating out of my chest more and more as the windshield got foggier and foggier to the point of sheer blindness. I drove with the driver’s side door cracked until the flow of traffic passed the accident that had caused the hold up. It was an overturned vehicle in the median. I could see myself, because of the opaque windshield overturning my vehicle too. The panic worsened. I hung up on Pookie. Couldn’t listen to her say “take a deep breath” again because if you know what it feels like to be in a confined space in the 90-something degree moist heat and not be able to get any sort of air, you know that it is impossible. My lungs felt like they would burst.

Evidently, it is just a blown fuse (we think) and can be fixed easily, but in the meantime, I can’t drive in that. I will die. Literally die.

I just ate a half pint of “Half Baked” and I feel increasingly better. Now I just need a car.