by Marsha Ward
I almost hit an elk last night.
It was that time of evening when full dark hasn't come down but it isn't really light, either. That time when your driving lights aren't effective and you can't use your brights because of oncoming traffic.
That ghostly, dangerous time of evening when a big bull elk moving across the road in front of you looks like a dun shadow with brown markings, and you hit your brakes and swerve.
And miss it.
Your heart beats a rapid tattoo in your chest and you try to settle your ragged breathing. You pay stricter attention and drive a few miles per hour slower.
I'd been down in the Valley to the doctor's to check out some blood work. The nurse mentioned that I felt warm as she took my blood pressure. I mentioned my itchy ears and scratchy throat to the doc as he took my temp, so he checked them. 99.1 and the left ear and throat both red. That accounts for my logy feeling of late. He gave me a 'script to fill or not, if I prefer to try the rest-liquids-extra vitamins-gargling route. I'm going for the latter, and that's why I'm headed back to bed.
My head feels full of cotton, but a heavy variety of cotton. I'm a bit dizzy, from the ear infection, I'll warrant.
I'd feel a whole lot worse if I'd hit the elk.