I have a confession, and I hope it doesn’t make anyone think less of me. In my county, we have too many traffic lights to count. In fact, one of the Cities started labeling lights “2a” and “2b” so as not to confuse people when new lights are added.
Without these lights, my commute would be much shorter. We make the best of the hand dealt us, such is the case with me and my time waiting in a parked car.
I’m the girl at the traffic light beside you, staring into the make-up mirror on the back of my car visor. Natural sunlight had a way of illuminating those stray, random facial hairs. No doubt those who observe the pluckage judge me.
Why didn’t this lady take care of her grooming at home?
She’d better not hold us up once the light turns green.
Seriously lady? Can one person possibly have that much to pluck?
I assure you, I know the light cycles. I realize at my Parkway entrance light, the other side of the road will get turn arrows first. I’m just as eager as anyone to get down the road. Their light turns green and my tweezers get put away. Safety first people!