Early Thursday morning, I read this heartbreakingly crushing blog post, written by a man I'd never heard of, a man named Derek K. Miller, a man who is now dead. It was his final blog post, one he requested be posted upon his death from cancer. Read it.
Later that day, I began to see reports about the sudden death of a 29-year-old ESPN publicist named Kimberly Jessup. I had never heard of Ms. Jessup, but tributes to her quickly flowed across the Twittersphere. Unlike the death of Mr. Miller, who had been facing his mortality for a long while, Ms. Jessup's passing appears to have happened without warning, leaving her friends and loved ones in a state of incomprehensible shock.
And at 9:30 p.m. that same night, I was lucky to walk away from a very scary car accident with a few banged-up ribs and a hell of a lot of soreness. I feel like I've been hit by a car. Get it? GET IT? Anyway, like all accidents, I presume, this one required a whole truckload of tiny decisions and events to put me and a friend of mine in the exact spot that we didn't wanna be in at 9:30 Thursday.
I'm not sure what any of this means, other than that Cinqo de Mayo can suck it.