Holy Cow! Were the Planets Aligned?

I thought they were this morning but then I was proven wrong.

Before I left the house this morning Little Voice told me to go upstairs, get a pair of socks and check yesterday's pants pockets. You know Little Voice, don't you? That little voice in your head that reminds you of things or tells you which aisle to drive down for the best parking space... Sometimes I listen, sometimes I ignore Little Voice. Little Voice is usually right, too. This morning I go upstairs, get my socks, get in the car and drive to work.

I live a block away from a big intersection and the light is never green for me to go straight through. Never. OK, maybe once in about 50 or 60 days. But that's close to never. To get to the beltway, I can go straight through the intersection and a mile or so later, past several mistimed lights, I get to Rt 50, which can be iffy during the morning commute; or I can turn right, don't have to wait for the green and take Rt 450 to the beltway. The lights are timed pretty well in the mornings so even though it's not highway, it's a consistent route.

I turn out of my neighborhood and the light is green (what?!) so I make the decision to got straight and chance it on Rt. 50. And wow, the lights are shining my way. And 50 is moving. I haven't had to stop once, which means I've had no breaks to put on my socks. The planets are aligned, I'm flying to work. (Except the "hill" on 50 where people collectively cannot maintain speed up a hill. I hate that.) Even the beltway is great as usual.

Great until right after the last bail-out exit on the beltway (the exit I take on the rare occasion there is a back-up), traffic comes to a screeching halt. I reach for my phone to get the traffic map, hmm, can't reach it, must be at the bottom of my bag. My exit is jammed, both ramps. I could take either one, but not today, two right lanes are blocked with folks trying to take the exit ramps. I go on to the next exit to take the back way to the office, but that ramp is full, too. Yikes. I stay there and stick it out and pull on my socks. I have time now to look for my phone and call the traffic line to tell them because this was not announced and I like to share info like that. My phone is not there. Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?

It's in the pocket of yesterday's pants. Sheesh.