Apollo's Terrible Glare

Sometimes you hit the wall sooner than you expect to. Mornings like these, it starts miles out from where it used to. The drivers decide, as if they’d planned it ahead of time, to make the highway into a parking lot.

So you crawl toward your exit, a Sisyphean commute becoming even worse. What was the point of adding that new lane if this is what’s going to happen?

You hate to say it but it would almost be a relief to see a fender-bender up ahead because that would make this traffic a one-time deal, passed and quickly forgotten. This time it’s not. This is the new normal, at least temporarily, and the culprit is the autumnal angle of the sun.

Ahead of you, drivers slow to a numb trudge, their cars impotent as Apollo’s terrible glare moves across the sky and completely blinds them. Better safe than sorry. Better to add 10 minutes onto my daily commute than actually try for mass competence.

For there is no solution to this. If only someone would invent some sort of device we could use to shield our eyes from the sun. Slouching toward the office, I dream of this perfect future.