These are the only words I've been able to utter all morning. Out loud. Over and over again. Caroline's been following up dutifully with "Mama, don't say shit. It's bad." But I can't help it. I turned on the TV this morning and saw Big Dig project director Mike Lewis a.k.a "Poor Mike Lewis, smart man unmoored in a sea of boobs." There he was in his orange construction vest, standing behind Matt Amorello who looked like he was going to wet himself. It's a typical scene on the news with all of the Big Dig snafus going down these days but when I read the headline, the needle scratched clear off the record. Holy shit.
I shiver at the thought of how often we all drive on that stretch of roadway. I know I drive it with the babies at least three days a week. It's the only direct connection from I-93 to Logan, East Boston and South Boston. It'll be a total clusterfuck in the city there for days to come but sitting in traffic means nothing next to what happened to that poor woman last night. I'll be thinking of her today instead of road raging over the gridlock.