I was hit by a car

So my computer is in the IT shop, hence my not-blogging, but now I'm in Ossining for the night, after the superfun book club we had, so I will tell this story that has been meant to be blogged since the moment it happened Friday.

I was walking back from a coffee shop in my hood—where I had been reading the very good book The Time Traveler's Wife and EVERYONE else was on their Macs — and I crossed at a crosswalk. I was probably spacing out because I'm spacey but I still don't blame myself for what happened.

I walked into the street, just a normal side street where there's a crosswalk and I was HIT BY A CAR. Literally. The car pushed me forward and I screamed, not out of hurt but out of shock. I then gave the car's driver a 'what the fuck?!' type look. They didn't speak English and said 'aqui, aqui' (here, here) so I went over. Unfortunately 'aqui' is about all I absorbed from high school spanish (since that was what we had to answer when the teacher took attendance) so since this coversation barrier was to much to bear, I accepted their apparent apology and moved on with my life, since I actually wasn't hurt at all, miraculously, or predictably since the car was going slow and had just half-stopped at the stop sign.

But I was HIT BY A CAR. How does that happen? Even weirder, my good friend Laurel was hit by a car a mere 2 weeks earlier. So think how many people are hit by cars all the time but don't know eachother. Maybe we'll start a support group.