Stress

The following is from an incident in late May.

Preparing to leave the country for 7 weeks is stressful. Tell me about it.
Especially when you go into work on a Sunday night and when you try to leave the freaking people have closed the security gate. No warning. No, “Sir, we plan on closing this gate at 10 p.m., so make sure you’re out by then.” It’s just you and the office…looks like you’ll be bunking in your cozy cubicle because nobody is at work anymore.
So I’m sitting in my Ford Ranger, looking at the lights reflecting the shiny paddlelock on the gate. And then…inspiration! I’ll drive around it, I mean, I do have a truck. So, I gently eased the tires up on the curve, drove over the bushes and then...RMMMMM. The tires start spinning and I’m not going anywhere. Did I mention I didn’t have my cell phone with me?
So I ran the 2 miles to my house in flipflops. Frusterated. Mad.
I solicited the help of a handy roommate who had a turbo sedan and a towstrap, POOF! My truck is free. No security guard in sight. I fluffed the bushes and it’s as if the nightmare never happened.