I've got a roast in the oven.
I should be leaving for choir rehearsal in a half hour.
Ken should be getting home in 10 minutes.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The phone just rang.
It was Ken.
He's been in an accident on the freeway, and he's waiting for the police. He's been hit, his car is smashed, but he didn't hit anyone else. His car is undrive-able. He thinks he is ok, but he's not really sure.
We don't dare go outside right now.
I'd probably be struck by lightning. Or one of the kids will be carried off by some rogue 100-pound goshawk, or something.
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