On Christmas Eve, while driving to my aunt's house for dinner, I ran over a big block of wood that just seemed to appear five feet ahead of me on the road, which gave me no time to avoid it. I was so rattled that I had to ask my niece and stepsister over and over again whether they saw what I just ran over. Or did I just imagine it? No. It was a big block of wood that appeared from no where.
Three days before the new year, while driving south on the 405 ... my usual route to the office, a rubber tire came flying straight at me. Boxed in on the furthest left lane, I had no where to turn nor did I have an opportunity to change lanes or stop. Fortunately, my car ran over the tire unscathed.
Then, of course, there was the random, unexpected run-in with the doc on New Year's eve. The news about the Ex and his baby. J[]'s new employment near my place of employment. My mentor's news about leaving his practice. Blah blah blah ...
However, nothing set off this first week of the year in a completely unexpected direction as the recent car break-ins in my apartment building, and the young man who followed me up the stairs sending me into startled, defensive b*&ch mode. Poor kid was trying to sell something. To earn money for school or some program. As I listened to him, I kept thinking, this kid is trying to do right and I'm supposed to understand this, but I couldn't. I was so taken aback by his presence behind me as I opened my apartment door that I didn't know how to gently and kindly tell him to go away. Fortunately, my downstairs neighbor arrived and I found the perfect opportunity to firmly say, "No, I'm not interested," and quickly shut the door. But I couldn't shut off the sound of her telling him to go away, that he had no right to be in the building, etc., etc., etc. I felt really bad, but at the same time, quite shaken over the whole thing because after hearing the news about the break-ins and the presence of this stranger in my building, I, all of a sudden, felt unsafe. In my own building. Unsafe. In. My. Place.
And it made me upset because out of all the places I've lived in, I've never felt so at ease as I do at my current residence. And therefore, once I enter my building, all of my defenses are down. I didn't even notice him follow me up the stairs. I was completely consumed in my own world, my thoughts, with IPOD blasting in my ear, that I didn't even see that someone was nearby. And I should know better! But my place was my safe haven ...
When I used to date (and used is the operative word), I made sure that all of my windows and blinds were open before I left the apartment. Although I was always wary about having some stranger pick me up at my place, sometimes they insisted and my quite agreeable* personality would give in, so I made sure that all of my windows and blinds were open in case Mr. Persistent made an excuse about needing to use the restroom at my place. With my windows and blinds open, I felt safe because my neighbors could see and/or hear should Mr. Persistent had something inappropriate in mind.
Again, my place was my safe haven ... but now, I don't know. Tonight, on my way home from work, as I reached the block to turn on my street, I saw the police and firefighters were cleaning up a big accident. And I thought ... I'm lucky I wasn't involved in that multi-car pile up ...
I can't help but feel that these near-misses are trying to tell me something.
*Completely conflicts with my choice of profession.
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