The streets were a battlefield

Lately, things seem like Frogger. The arcade game from the 60’s where a frog’s goal is to bob and weave

through traffic to reach the other side, but unlike the chicken (or whichever version of the joke you know), the frog can get run over and embedded in the treads of whatever vehicle hit that poor frog. It played out as such earlier in the day as I dodged traffic to rescue a box; a box that I really could care less about. A friend of mine had begged me yesterday to transport many rather large boxes from one side of Decatur to the other, and I was the logical person to call because I owned a truck. We attempted to pack the boxes in as they wouldn’t fly away or fumble off the flatbed, causing an accident in the lane next to me. One of the boxes wasn’t as buxom as the other and began to tip as I drove down Eldorado toward campus. It was shortly after this when I lost that box for the first time. I looked foolish as I waited on the side of the road, debating in my head as to when I should make the mad dash toward the inner lane for box-retrieval; timing it against the traffic.

In the end, that same, damn box which I had lost four times before flew out and I kept driving as I saw

traffic zigzag around it in my right rear-view mirror. Also, what turned out to be Frogger ended up as Anti-Frogger – the cars move to dodge the large box in the road. I suppose that’s karma for running over so many frogs.