The other day I was out jogging and nearly fucking died.

I came within like half a metre of being hit by a car, but it was also like I almost hit it the car. I was running along a footpath that had a slip lane running through it. It was one of those lanes where the pedestrian would technically have right of way because the car would have to turn into the pedestrian’s path (it checks out, I just looked it up on the Queensland Government website) buuuut it also would make sense for the pedestrian (i.e. me) to check that no bastard was coming before crossing the road because getting banged up by a car is a huge hassle.

There was this moment of near impact where things looked a little bit like I could have had a very real excuse to skip the gym for a few days.

If we were just two people walking in opposite directions along a hallway, it would have been one of those times when you nearly bump into someone, make that “oooop” noise and shuffle away with a stupid non-confrontational grin in your face.

But when one of those people are in a car, it’s not an awkward encounter, it’s a near death experience.

Like, I’m not angry of anything, I mean, if I died, I’d probs have had to make myself come back as a ghost to tell the driver, “oi, like don’t be too hard on yourself mate, I probs would have done the same thing aye”.

The thing that gets me is that my near death experience would have been more poignant.  I just assumed it would have been a profound moment for me. Like, that a switch inside me would have flicked and suddenly I was super focused and thankful and started milking every once of joy from the dry, chapped teat of life. You see near death experiences on movies and they often tend to change people. They start carpeing diems and embracing love and building something worthwhile.

So after I was gifted a whole extra day on earth, I decided to see how I spent this gift. Here’s a rough outline of my behaviour following the incident:

Immediately after: I kept running for about 30 seconds before needing to deeply inhale and exhale on a park bench. I mean, this could have been more dramatic. I could have been having a full-on freak out, but I was underwhelming in my performance. I just sat on the bench, breathing deeply. To unaware passers-by, it would have looked as if I had tried running too soon after a large bowl of porridge.

Perhaps if I overacted a little more, a charming prince-like character could have come to my aid, whisking me off in his Tesla to get me a calming cup of chai at a quiet coffee shop where we would have a chance to talk. Obviously this would lead to a life-affirming romance where we help one another to evolve for the better but, ultimately, know we could never be together. I haven’t quite worked out where our story ends, but I like to think maybe Prague (his family money has interesting origins and I really want to go back to that little gingerbread shop).

A little after immediately after: I decided to jog at a leisurely pace to my playlist of upbeat female singer songwriters, going through the park to soak up some nature. Only, it was a wee bit cold and the park was pretty much just the green space along the oversized drain running through that side of town. I told myself I would seize the day by treating myself to a decadent chai after finishing.

About 30 minutes after: I decided to try to pinch a few pennies and made myself wait until I got home to make myself a cup of tea. That’s ok though, I do like the tea I make myself.

About an hour after: I’d booked myself a haircut about two months prior after being prodded by my new hairdresser, appalled by my split ends. You’d think this would be the time I’d say, “fudge it, let’s make my hair fairy floss pink” or something, but I actually quite like the colour of my hair and I don’t have the energy to maintain an edgy bob so I just got a trim. I mean, I did crumble and buy the shampoo my hairdresser suggested, because apparently the stuff I was using was coating my hair in silicone, so that’s something. Life’s too short to have your hair coating in silicone.

About three hours later: I went a little wild and made myself some pasta for dinner – I lashed out and finally used that low-carb, high-protein pulse pasta I’d bought on special months ago. I even used the last of my goats cheese. It was delicious and, as far as I’m deluding myself, super healthy. I mean, if I was going to live on and, hopefully, get entangled in a life-transforming romance, it’s best to keep a tight rig.

About three-and-a-half hours later: I started watching Gavin and Stacy as per a friend’s recommendation.

About six hours after: I went to bed at a reasonable hour because I had work early the next morning.

About 12 hours after: I woke up, washed my face and had a cup of tea. I usually don’t eat until mid-morning when I work early shifts, but today I went wild and had a small, measured portion of bran and oats with yogurt.

About 15 hours after: I went outside for my break after I was urged to “go outside and stroll in the sunshine for 15 minutes” by a work friend who I swap gardening and cooking tips with. I came back inside about seven minutes because it was brisk and my ankles weren’t covered.

About 16 hours after: I had second breakfast, being my boiled eggs and kale office special. I used a lot of butter, but that wasn’t a you-nearly-died-so-treat-yourself kind of thing. I always have had a lot of butter in my life.

About 20 hours after: I bought myself two sticks of kanagaroo salami at a fancy deli. Then I shopped around for the cheapest veggies, finding my way to a store with an interesting international food section. Out of all the options, I selected a rhubarb and ginger preserve.

About 22 hours after: I ate the leftover pasta and finished watching The Bodyguard (the TV series, not the Whitney Houston epic).

About 24 hours after: I decided not to go to the gym.

Yep, that’s depressing.

But I would like to point out that I intend to make up for this slack seizing of the day today by observing Margarita Wednesday, a glorious holiday where my nursing friend and I find ourselves with the same Wednesday off, so we celebrate by getting margaritas.

Today, we’re also incorporating Wing Wednesday into the festivities, where we go to a joint that sells chicken wings for 25 cents a piece and become human stains.

Happy Margarita Wednesday everyone!