Birdie had never been able to embrace the notion of the “glass half full”. At the best, it seemed like settling; at the worst, it didn’t seem honest. “Call me cynical,” thought Birdie, “but the Pollyana method of putting a positive spin on a bad situation with that ‘glass half full’ philosophy is like putting a pig in a silk gown. No matter what you dress it in, it’s still a pig.”
For instance, the other day Birdie had been in the Wal-Mart parking lot, walking toward her car, when a pickup truck came speeding past, narrowly missing her by inches. Well, maybe it wasn’t THAT close. Birdie had heard that women, in general, weren’t as naturally gifted as men when it came to spatial judgements. The driver of the truck was a man, so his spatial genes probably enabled him to brush by her within a safe margin. But what if Birdie had lost her balance at just the wrong moment and had veered into his path? You just never knew with a woman Birdie’s age. She was doing more involuntary veering than she used to.
Anyway, here’s the part where Birdie fell into that “half full glass”. As the truck sped away, Birdie noticed that the plates proclaimed the driver to be a fireman. “Well, ” Birdie thought, “if he had run me down, at least I wouldn’t have had to wait for emergency help.”