Driving Miss Daisy Crazy

So I've been making the hour commute to the hospital to see the baby. I'm his mom by day and the other 3 kid's mom by night. What I've found during this process is that there are some crazy bastards out there and they were all given a license to operate a motor vehicle.

Yes, it astounds me too.

The speed limit is 65 miles per hour on the highway. I usually go 6 miles over the speed limit and drive 71. Technically, this means I'm speeding. According to the other drivers, I'm not driving Miss Daisy, I am Miss Daisy. These people are whizzing past my sedate 71 and going at least 75, 80, maybe even 85. (I told you they were crazy bastards!) I wish I had one of those awesome radar guns to see what speed they're actually going. (Or an actual radar gun wielding cop to come pull their asses over. Either way.)

What I most want is to stay in my middle lane and stay the hell away from these whack-a-doodles who only have one goal: scare the bejesus out of me. I figure that staying in the middle lane gives them two sides to pass me on and leave me alone in my safe, highway cocoon. These cars are bobbing, weaving, swerving and making lane changes this close to the car they're cutting off. It's truly nerve wracking. I don't have enough medication to be able to do those kind of vehicular maneuvers. I'd need pills to treat nervous breakdowns on a daily basis.

I think this is the sign they must be seeing.

The best part though? The speed limit changes about halfway through from 65 to 55. It is a super secret speed change. I am the only one who can see the reduced speed signs and the new speed limit signs that show the lower speed. I know this to be true because everyone is driving faster than I am. Every time I get passed by a car I want to say, "The speed limit is only 55! I'm even going a few miles faster than that!" (Actually, I have said that but since they're going mach 10 past me, I don't think they had time to read my lips.)

So if you pass me on the highway, please be kind. Don't beep and scare another year off my life. If you swear, make up some new words so that I can't figure out what you're saying. And most importantly, remember that I've had a rough few weeks and to take it easy on me. (Hey, I'm not above using the pity vote!)