Casey at the Bat

I ignored that, let the rest of the day pass. The afternoon improved dramatically both professionally and due to a nice lull in texts from Casey.

My drive home began hopefully. And then it began to rain. And you know how that is. Half of the rush hour drivers become overly cautious and slow to a snail's pace for fear of hydroplaning (does anyone know anyone whose car has actually done that?) and the other half drives normally, but grows frustrated with the Nervous Pervis drivers gumming up the works and then turn into Road Ragers, complete with obscene gestures and brake slamming maneuvers just to show you who's King of the Road. It is a sight to behold.

But as Rain Man has said, "I am an excellent driver." I am alert, assertive, avoid the cars whose drivers have clearly taken chances and failed, drive by mirrors and make my moves with precision. I have my Dad to thank for that.

But today not everyone is so lucky. There is a little fender bender at the far side of the bridge and the wreck has nowhere to be moved to, the choices being, the lanes that it is in or the water. So I am sitting in my car and waiting in neutral.

Above the din of rain pounding on the roof and a darn good tune by The Killers, I hear my phone jingle.

Being that I am in stand-still traffic, I break with tradition and look at the phone.

Ugh. Casey.

"I am worried about you driving in this weather."

How charming.

Really? You are worried? What right do you have to be worried, and frankly, what are you worrying about? Rain? Is this my first day driving outside the desert? Have I not been driving quite admirably for 30 years????? And do I not impress you as being at least a reasonably capable adult? Let's understand that unless you've read my name in the Obituaries, I have things pretty much under control.

I take the time to text before traffic starts to move.

"Don't."

No emoticon. Just don't. I'll let him read the myriad meanings behind the word.

Don't worry.
Don't bother.
Don't you dare.
Don't care.
Don't call me anymore.

He sent one more message. About a week later. Something about guessing I've been busy.

Busy, yes. But as we all know, a good healthy dose of interest or desire kicks busy's ass every time.

I did not respond. And that was that.

"Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and some children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out."