Road Rage

I am guilty of road rage.  Well, it’s actually watered down road rage.  I am not a complete lunatic.  I haven’t crashed my car into another vehicle or assaulted anyone.  I bite my tongue most of the time when my children  are in the car.   However, when you are going through perimenopause some things are out of your control.  Most recently, I yelled at a driver who didn’t turn right when the light was red.  “It’s right on RED,”  I shouted through my windshield. He didn’t hear me because we were separated by glass and metal.  My kids were watching Tangled Ever After for the millionth time at an ear pounding volume. You aren’t tied down Rapunzel.   Jump out of the damn tower already.   “Come oooonnnn!  Right on red. Right on red!”  My low pitched screams sounded eerily similar to “Red rum! Red rum!”  Listen,  I was late to an appointment.  I am always late.  At this point I was perspiring and close to foaming at the mouth while Mandy Moore sang in the background.  “Oh, what the hell!  Go, you idiot!”  My daughter asked, “What’s wrong Mommy?”  I took a deep breath.  Mommy was acting like a complete fool.   Comic Louis CK has a great bit about road rage.  It makes me laugh out loud every time I watch it.

 

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