“A warrior takes responsibility for his acts, for the most trivial of acts. An average man acts out his thoughts, and never takes responsibility for what he does.” ~Carlos Castaneda
Tuesday evening was a fun get-together with friends for pizza. It is liberating and healing to laugh and socialize in a 'normal' setting--especially if pizza is involved. I talked a friend into splitting a sinfully decadent chocolate dessert called 'Chocolate Temptation.' (Worth every fat gram and carb!)
The first to leave our party came abruptly back into the pizza place--an eye witness to a hit & run to a parked vehicle in the parking lot which happened to be mine! She was a good witness--getting the man's phone number and name from the counter employee as he was a pickup order. Apparently he was fashionably coordinated in red crocks with a matching red shirt.
I can tell I am getting old. The responding officer looked more like a cub scout than a policeman, but he was eye candy. Investigating the damage, my rear tail light lay in splinters on the asphalt, grooved punch in the bumper, and a silver trim something lay in solitary twisted carnage in the dimly-lit crime scene.
I guess I have been fighting serious health issues for so long, I felt nothing looking at the broken shards littering the ground--knowing my car can be repaired. My broken health is an ugly duct-taped temporary medication repair of questionable efficiency. My body is totaled. Engaged in a daily battle with Stiff Person Syndrome, I need to have the mindset of a warrior. Life priorities refocus with clarity--important and trivial, permanent and temporary.
Outside of his garrish attire, Mr. Red Crocs is an irresponsible and average guy. I wish SPS would take a lesson from our pizza-toting flight perp, don some red crocs and go on the lam. No chase would ensue.
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