Here's a post from last year, about another ordinary afternoon.
A thunderstorm slowed traffic to a crawl. Through the rain pelting my windshield, I could make out only a string of blinking brake lights. The 18-wheeler in the next lane was about to squash me from the right side and you could have surfed on the wave thrown up by the cocky four-by-four passing on my left. I white-knuckled the steering wheel and prayed for a miracle to get myself home. Alone on the highway, I pondered my fate. Actually, it was a good day to die. I was in love. The house was clean.