Most days, I think I navigate the world pretty well; as if I can almost feel myself in rhythm with all the sighted people who traverse the streets of Hollywood.  I can get lost in the fantasy and forget that my lens is broken and I only get part of the picture.

Yesterday I was at our local Ralphs Supermarket, picking up milk, bell peppers and Muenster.  The grocery store is always a bit of a challenge for me; people, shopping carts and displays, all an array of accidents waiting to happen.  I always opt for the hand basket rather than a shopping cart because it just isn’t safe for me to drive any vehicle, motorized or not.

I was hit by a car in the parking lot of the Ralphs in this story, so I tend to take my time and make sure I am constantly scanning my surroundings. The problem is that I often think I am doing a pretty complete scan, but in reality, I am failing to look past my own edges.  These are the times when RP pops up and slams me in the face.

I found the items on my list and managed to get around the store and through the checkout unscathed.  This doesn’t always happen, so I was feeling pretty confident and, mistakenly, sure-footed.  As my usual routine dictates, I stopped in a quiet corner to change from inside glasses to sun glasses before venturing out into the sun and heat.  Did I mention there was a massive heat wave in Los Angeles?  I walked across the threshold of sliding doors and out into the heart of sweltering Hollywood.

Given my previous run in with a dark blue Accord, I took a long pause just outside the lines of the parking lot.  The traffic was thick and the whole neighborhood seemed to be approaching the store, so I stole a breath and waited until I thought my path was clear.  I stepped forward with self-assurance and crashed into a display of clay pumpkin pots.  One of them went reeling and broke into pieces on the ground;  RP singing its cruel melody to the sound of breaking pottery. Happy fucking Halloween.