So a couple of years ago my car, empty, on the street, was smashed up by some out-of-control driver. (I’m going somewhere with this, I promise!) 1/x

I just heard a SCREECH and a hella loud CRASH from my kitchen. My neighbor saw the whole thing. Pretty scary. We called the cops.

The cops came, but they obviously couldn’t do much except write up a report that I could show to my insurance company.

The more talkative cop I remember well, a youngish, amiable black man - we joked about the boys down at the crime lab making my case a top priority.

Here’s my point. I have no doubt that yesterday, those officers were stuffed into riot gear and sent out to control the protests.

I don’t question their competence as policemen, but I’m not confident either was ready to head into a war zone. I hope they made good, sane choices.

I don’t know. I’ve spent the past 48 hours so insanely mad at the police. Like, enraged.

It’s personal now, too. Today a cop in Minneapolis shot my friend’s eye out. Like, her eye exploded, and now it’s gone.

So I’m mad. (And I’m not a great sleeper anyway.)

But those two cops popped into my mind outa nowhere just now.

We’re messy, often desperate creatures. Not many of us are truly qualified to handle what’s happening right now.

I’m sure the riot gear doesn’t help. That shit dehumanizes people on both sides of the visor.

Anyway, to the extent that you can, everyone, stay safe. And stay human.

[Oh, and if you can, remind me to never make quesadillas after 9pm ever again, no matter how much my daughter begs. That shit ain’t helping me sleep either!]