So I went to the clinic after work, right? Everything was fine and dandy until I said the phrase "car accident." At that point, the nurse-on-duty did the quickest backpedaling act I've ever seen. She flatly stated, "We cannot treat you. Go to the ER."

Tonight's thumbs-up comment goes to Lee Cornelius out in the Huntsville ER. Seinfeld-esque bedside manner—while answering my annoying questions to boot. I hate x-rays. I've had way too many of them in my life, and these were the most pain-free ones I've dealt with in a long time. Has more to do with his good cheer, flippant sense of humor, and general tolerance of my mouthiness than anything else.

Revision to earlier statement. I feel cruddy. My neck is sore and stiff, and my chest is sore from where the seatbelt kept me from chowing down on the steering wheel.

I'm going to give this a bit longer. See how I feel tomorrow. If it's not better I'll think about going to the doc to get it checked out. I don't think it's anything serious, but I'm sore.

From an email I sent to most of my friends this morning:

I'm okay.

Got the car looked at this morning. Over $2000 worth of damage. You'd better believe I'm blessing 1) my insurance coverage and 2) the fact that I was hit by a fully insured driver.

The liftgate for the trunk's got to be replaced, as is my back bumper. My driver's side back quarter panel is buckled, and because of that the small window on that side doesn't seal properly, and the door doesn't shut properly. There is the possibility of some frame damage, but we won't know that until the car's actually repaired.

My 'check engine' light is also coming on intermittently. There's probably a damaged sensor in there somewhere.

I'm not sure if I woke the cats up, or vice versa. They crawled in bed with me about thirty minutes ago, all quivering inquisitive (cold, wet!) noses and rusty purrs. Nothing like twenty pounds of kitty coming to rest on your stomach.

(My bladder said hello.)

I started thinking about tonight's wreck and it really does have me rattled. I think that's just my way of dealing with things; a short-term high level of shock, followed by sheer and utter competence. I'll be fine when daylight comes. But the light of reality is harshest at two a.m., when there's no one to talk to and nothing to take your mind off of the events of the day.I suppose I was snoring in bed; I woke up and Jeff wasn't there. I wish he'd been there. (I write this in the full knowledge that he'll see this sometime tomorrow. Sorry, hon, but it's true.)

I got rear-ended on the way home today. My first accident ever. Boo, hiss. I'm lucky, though. I saw the woman coming up behind me and had enough time to brake and swerve, which prevented the accident from being worse.

The feeling of my car lurching out of control was a very sickening one indeed. Especially since I saw what was ahead of me—an embankment built out of concrete blocks. My brakes stopped me about three feet from the embankment. Had they not, things would have been much worse.She hit my car. *sniff sniff sniff*

Dammit. Sigh. Thank goodness for insurance.

Right now I'm going to sit down and eat some dinner. Right after the accident happened I called the wondergeeks—Jess and Kat still had a house key, so they came over and fed the kitties for me. While they were here, they left me food for dinner tonight.

on music…
While headed out for lunch today, an old comment that I read once popped into my head unbidden. I remember reading some music critic discussing the differences [s]he perceived between Mozart and Beethoven. (At least, I think it was Beethoven.) The description of the difference: while Beethoven's work sounds carefully composed and constructed, Mozart's work had an aura of uncreation—almost as if he had just found the music whole and entire, and done nothing except write it down.