What's In a Name

I was reminded on several occasions today why "Life in the Slow Lane" is an appropriate title for this blog. But first a little history.

If you've been with me since the beginning, you may recall that an incident while traveling with LBeau prompted me to start my blog. If you don't know the story, you can read it here.

Life with LBeau has always been about not getting in too big a hurry. When the boys were much younger, we took them to Atlanta for a long weekend to see the Braves. On the interstate, LBeau likes to drive in the right-hand lane; you know, the slow lane. The problem in Atlanta was that every time we'd get into the right-hand lane, it would suddenly become an "exit only" lane. Then LBeau would have to fight the traffic to move one lane to the left, and the whole process would start over again. I tried to tell him that if he would stay out of the right lane to begin with life would be much easier. Today convinced me that he hasn't learned that lesson.

We were driving back to his office after a lunchtime appointment. Several times I had to remind him that the right lane would be ending and he'd better move over. Forty-five minutes should have been ample time to get us from Homewood to Inverness, but for those of you who live in the Birmingham area, I need say nothing more than "280 at lunchtime."

As we sat there while the lights continued to change and we were stopped dead still, LBeau suddenly noticed that the middle and left lanes were moving. He inched his way to the left and sure enough, a stalled truck in the right lane. Still he didn't learn his lesson. No sooner were we around the truck than he moved back to the right lane, only to come to a dead stop a couple of blocks later. This time it was a car being loaded onto a wrecker.

Later this afternoon I was checking out a few things at Wal-Mart. I rarely have more than 20 items, so I got into lane 5, the shorter of the two express lanes. Sure enough, register trouble. Don't you just hate it when that light starts blinking? Meanwhile, the line in lane 6 had gotten shorter, so I maneuvered my buggy into it. Bingo. That "6" starts flashing pretty as you please.

Oh well. At least my life is consistent.