You be the judge

I often tell my hubby that of us both, I’m the worse driver. However, here is my bumper…

Please notice there isn’t a blemish in sight

And here’s his bumper…

That bump and those white scrapes? Not supposed to be there.

We interrupt regular programming…

I was in a car accident yesterday. Yeah, as interesting days go, this one was at the top of the pile.

I was driving with the traffic on a street when someone decided to cut across the street (all four lanes) and hit my car. When I asked she claimed she hadn’t seen me. I thought a yellow Jeep was sort of hard to miss, but I didn’t think it was worth arguing. The lady in question was actually really nice. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances, I was pretty sure we’d be friends.

The short and long of it is that instead of getting home at a decent hour yesterday, I got home really, really late. And my poor Jeep is at the body shop. Oh, and I’m okay. I have a neck ache and headache and bruises but I’m fine.

A few minor points are worth mentioning.

1. The decor at the Police Station where I live leaves a lot to be desired. Those chairs are NOT comfortable and, I may not know much about decorating, but I can tell you they could use a couple of plants to liven up the space.

2. Tow-truck drivers know more about the city than any private investigator.

3. Murphy was right, if anything can go wrong, it will. During the accident, the cleaning product I had in my car broke spilling all over the inside. The many papers I carried and books fell into the mess and chemically bonded so that they’re now inseparable. And though the container said the cleaning product smelled like spring, it’s certainly not recommended as perfume. Everyone kept sniffing in my direction all night with a look of disbelief.

4. Shock is a funny thing. When the woman who hit me explained the reasons against making a claim, I thought it sounded perfectly reasonable and even tried to comfort her.

5. Finally, hubbies are soooo nice when you tell them someone hit your car and it wasn’t your fault. He took one look at me and ran to plug the kettle. Ahhh…British self-care.

(credit:pinterest.com)