happy accident

I'm learning that no one really cares when I write a serious blog. No one ever comments about them. It's as if my three readers simply say, oh, right, Elizabeth is in her alternate universe again, better leave her alone. Fine. I've determined to alternate serious blogs with fluffy ones, more or less. In other words, after I write about war, injustice, and the death of puppies, I will compose an exposition on the finer points of giving a manicure (although I shall have to do some research on the latter--I have no idea how to do one). So here goes with today's non-substantive post:
I was rear-ended today. For some reason, God decided to dump 6-8 inches of snow on Chicago. Why, I know not. He seems to plan these days of snow quite carefully. Right after a warm day when Elizabeth Tatum was able to go the Lincoln Park Zoo and enjoy the sunshine, He sends torrents of large snow flakes, just to torment the general populace. This snow creates hazardous road conditions, of which I was a victim today. Now, my '97 Subaru happens to have all-wheel drive--quite a convenience when living in the Midwest. Good ol' Stella (my car) pulled up the stop light, went smoothly to the left lane, and stopped to wait for the light to turn. However, the two fools in the Ford behind me were not able to stop. My rapping to a Sean Paul song was most rudely interrupted when the said gray car slammed into the back of mine. I wasn't sure what to do. I put my car in park, put on my flashers, and got out of my car. Um. Sir. You hit my car. (That was what I was planning to say.) I didn't get the chance to say anything right then, because he gestured for me to pull over. Slightly annoyed, I got back in my car, made a right, and stopped. And who should get out of the car but a beautiful twentysomething man, and his friend. Quite egotistically, my first thought was not, "Wow, what luck for me!" but rather, "Wow, what luck for them! They rear-ended a nice single girl." It felt like some kind of set-up when we exchanged phone numbers. I half-expected him to call me tonight saying something like, "Hey, um, remember how I hit your car today? Well, would you like to go get a drink?" But alas, it was not to be. The negligent Ford driver has not contacted me since. He did apologize for "slowing me down," however, and I do feel that those words were well-chosen. All in all, getting in a minor car accident really isn't a bad way to meet men. No one is hurt, there are a few laughs, the man can express some kind of care, and phone numbers are exchanged. Really, someone ought to tell e-harmony about this.
At any rate, it felt almost wrong to jump back in the car and keep going as if nothing had happened, but, what choice did I have? It makes for a good story, I suppose. Better than how to get rid of pesky cuticles, or how to perfect the best pumicing methods, or how to obtain the most effective anti-aging hand cream. For fluff, recounting a happy accident with a nice-looking stranger is really the best thing that I've got.