how to go from a normal woman to a raving lunatic who runs in front of traffic - in thirteen easy steps!

1) schedule an appointment to have your taxes done at 7:00 pm. assume that this will give you plenty of time to get home, as you usually get home around 6:15 on a normal night. disregard murphy's law here.

2) thoughtfully bring home two pieces of cheesecake from the office for your boyfriend. because there is no tupperware lying around your cubicle, fashion a contraption to hold the cheesecake out of a bunch of sandwich bags and small cardboard box. small, but not small enough to fit in your bag, thus necessitating hand-carrying all the way home.

3) make sure it is pouring rain when you leave work.

4) arrive at the metro station to a platform jam-packed with people, and wait ten minutes to squeeze your way onto a crowded blue line train. sandwich yourself uncomfortably in the middle of the car, with your bag on one shoulder and your umbrella and the cake in your other hand. hold onto the overhead bar that you can barely reach, and silently curse the effect of water plus wool on nasal passages.

5) get verbally berated, along with all other passengers, by the train conductor about "not leaning on the doors!!!!" at the next three stops, and listen to the mechanized metro lady say "doors closing..." half a dozen times at each stop before they actually, genuinely do.

6) ensure that the problem with the doors is not actually too many people on the train, but something much more inscrutable and thus unable to easily fix. stand in the train car, still holding your bag, umbrella, and cake, for 20 minutes while waiting for problem to be resolved. have "problem being resolved" equal the conductor getting on the PA and saying "this train is being offloaded at this station. everyone, off the train."

7) wait in the midst of a wet, wooly crush of humanity at said station while your broken train pulls away. don't even attempt to get on the first train, for fear of being stampeded. squeeze onto second one, and maintain tenuous grip on all three of your belongings while doing so. actually say, out loud, "would you all just settle down?" as you are shoved through the doors. resume your position barely grasping overhead handle in new car.

8) finally arrive at your stop at 6:20, thinking "great, as long as i don't have to wait much longer than ten minutes for the shuttle bus, i'll be ok." hoof it down the stairs and through the turnstile, wrestling your hat on and your umbrella open as you navigate through the crowd to the parking lot. see a shuttle pulling away.

9) decide to start abiding by murphy's law, and thus conclude that the shuttle on the way out of the lot must be yours. start walking briskly up the sidewalk towards the cross-street where it looks like the shuttle will be stopped at a red light.

10) have the wind blow your umbrella inside out.

11) realize that it really might be your shuttle. start jogging. simultaneously try to right your umbrella by shaking it violently and peer at the shuttle in an attempt to recognize whether it's frank, the driver, in the front seat. arrive at intersection just as the other street's light is turning yellow, and at that moment confirm it is definitely your shuttle.

12) disregard major intersection status of your location and the changing traffic lights, and charge across four lanes of traffic with your umbrella flailing about and your bag falling off your shoulder. miraculously, maintain firm grip on cake. watch light turn green while you are halfway across. leap onto the opened shuttle door just as the cars behind you start to honk furiously.

13) collapse into a seat, and when frank the shuttle driver asks, "are you ok?," just laugh.