Warning: This is not a metaphor. This is Real Life with a bonus six dollar see-through car wash.
My dad, Howie, might be turning in his grave over this misuse of the term "cement". Cement is a powder, like flour. Powder cement mixed with aggregate and water makes concrete. Dad taught his grandkids that recipe at the earliest possible age.
My office is reached by a curvy two-lane drive currently undergoing road repairs. One lane of the drive is being replaced, and each morning brings a new obstacle course. By lunch break the cones and the detour signs have fallen over. It's just like life.
In the middle of my life I came to a place where the straight way was lost and the cement worker walked off the job. His helpers were just standing there to one side, so I drove out around them, crossing over into the left lane that was actually freshly smoothed concrete. International gestures for You Idiot Driver and I'm So Sorry So Embarrassed Please Don't Yell At Me ensued. And then the What's Up Doc flashbacks began.
Abandon all hope, you who enter here, because the road not taken has made all the difference. Sometimes it's better to just brown bag it.
© 2014 Nancy L. Ruder