The world is a crazy place.

For one thing: I care a lot less about what Obama ate when he was 10 than what he's been doing for the past 3 1/2 years.

I wonder how many more "your tax dollars at work" situations of people partying/taking relatives on vacation on the taxpayer's dime/buying hookers and blow while on detail (Okay, I guess there were no drug purchases, but still).

But this is crazy sad old April. Particularly, April 20th - the anniversary of Columbine, a couple days after the anniversary of the Branch Davidian fire and the Oklahoma City bombing and the Virginia Tech shooting and EVERYTHING.

And I wonder: is there something about April that makes people who are fragile or messed up to begin with more likely to snap? I'm pretty robustly sane and I find April often finds me at the end of a metaphorical rope. I cussed out a truck driver in absentia this morning because he pulled his big-rig out in front of me (he did not have the right of way) and caused me to miss my turn. And then I felt like crying. Every time I drive to work lately it feels like I'm taking my life into my hands.

I really, really don't want to have this conversation with St. Peter:

Me: "Okay...so....I guess I'm here now? That means I'm dead? How did I get here?"

St. Peter: "Your car got assplowed by a semi carrying sausages while you were on your way to work."

Me: (Long string of words that probably would be grounds for getting me sent to The Other Place.)

Seriously, if I'm going to die other than at a very advanced age and in my own bed? I want it to be doing something heroic, like trying to save someone's life, not getting turned into a freeway pancake by someone who is being inattentive to their driving. But increasingly, I'm afraid that's how it's going to happen.