Friday, July 16, 2010

Another reason why I'm old.

I have a 13 month old daughter whose favorite thing in the entire world -- besides demanding that I put on her pretty pink sandals -- is to give me a serious case of myocardial infarction. Seriously. It means heart attack.

The child goes out of the front door, and unless some odd wet substance is falling from the sky, runs immediately for the street. No joke.

It really shouldn't be that big of a deal. We live in base housing. The speed limit is 15mph. The neighborhood is pretty small. However, we are also a "convenient" cut through for the main road. But the people who see it as such fail to realize that there are a bazillion stop signs. And a bazillion speed bumps. And if they don't miss those (I recommend slowing down for the bumps unless you want to lose your oil pan), they definitely miss the speed limit. Most of them double it.

I've called police and complained to the neighborhood association. But short of putting out tack strips activated by vehicles going over 20mph (see that? I'm giving you an extra 5mph), there is no easy, cheap or effective way of stopping it.

So, for now, when you go buzzing past my house faster than I perceive is safe, be wary of the crazy lady with a broom and camera. I'm getting your license plates. And yes, I'm going to make an idiot of myself and scream at you. And flail my arms. And be totally obnoxious. Especially if you drive a giant, old, white, station wagon with an odd rack on top. You speed by EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. You don't live in my neighborhood and you act like I'm the crazy one when I scream at you because you come flying around that corner, skipping stop signs as I whisk up my child.


Or I'm going to have to get the ninjas to come after you.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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