The road block men had blocked the road this morning. Understandably so, because it's their job. But somehow, it has a different effect on me when the road they block is the one I want to take to work. The work that was waiting for me alone, this glorious morning. But try and explain that to the road block men. Open window, hair flapping in the wind, arm waving frantically, hardly audible with 100 kilometres an hour because you are forced to take an exit you don't want to take way before you actually get to the road block men. And because they're at work imperturbably in huge floodlights with very large, yellow road block men machines.
So I kept driving and hoped everything would end well. Which it did. Not straight away, but eventually.
Eventually, things always end well.