So I had a bit of an auto mishap yesterday, which is cool, because lately I just can't get enough of feeling my nerves rattle around inside my skull.
It happened at Trader Joe's, in an area of the parking lot that is very poorly designed. So poorly designed, in fact, that upon parking there I thought, "Gosh, I really shouldn't park here. This spot! It is so poorly designed!"
It happened at Trader Joe's, in an area of the parking lot that is very poorly designed. So poorly designed, in fact, that upon parking there I thought, "Gosh, I really shouldn't park here. This spot! It is so poorly designed!"
Trouble is, there's no wiggle room when backing out of this particular row of spaces. So the moment you pooch out even a teeny bit, you are basically in the dead center of oncoming traffic. As I was backing out (slowly, and after having checked my mirrors AND craned my neck around to check both sides) I heard a crunch. There in my rear-view mirror was this older-model black Cherokee. And speaking as the most careful backer-outer you ever met, I can assure you that car was SO NOT THERE BEFORE. I think she was going too fast, and because of two big SUVs shielding my car from her view, neither of us saw the other coming.
The other driver, who looked like she could be somebody's very nice grandma, immediately hopped out of her car, mad as a hornet. She waved her finger at me and yelled that I'd pay for this. Then she hissed "Bitch!" and called 911 on her cell phone. Hmm, overreact much? The damage honestly wasn't bad. There were some scuff marks on the side of her car, while I definitely took the brunt of it, with big scratches and some chipped paint on my rear bumper. Making things even more chaotic, this broad left her vehicle right where it was, blocking all the traffic in that lane. So while she was throwing her tantrum, there was a steadily growing line of cars filled with honking, swearing drivers hollering at her to get out of the way, as the blazing midday sun beat down on everyone. It was AWESOME.
The woman calmed down after a cop came by and said, no, ma'am, there is nothing I can do about this, and also could you please move your shit out of this lane of traffic. After she parked her car, this lady (who kept repeating how she initially "wanted to kill" me) admitted it was a horrible parking lot and that we simply had no way of seeing each other. She called her daughter, who came down and agreed that we should probably just part ways and each take care of our own damage, as opposed to filing insurance claims. And so I went home and fixed myself a cocktail.
Later that afternoon, though, my brother convinced me to alert my insurance company anyhow, even if I don't plan to use my coverage. Because who knows if this woman is going to go home and decide she has whiplash or something. So I did, and poof! Now there is an accident claim, and my insurance company sent me a helpful e-mail saying that everything is most definitely my fault. And just now, the lady's insurance guy called me and wants to know what happened, so obviously my company called her company, and now she probably thinks I am a big, fat double-crosser!
I am having a hard time cheering up from all of this. My trusty "it could be worse" line is currently out of gas. Also, whenever I stop worrying about the car stuff, I revive my worry about the TB stuff. Oh, a neat update there is that the principal at the school where I'll work, who has been there for decades, said I'm just the second person she knows of to test positive for tuberculosis. In decades. WOE IS ME, LITTLE BLOG AUDIENCE. WOE IS ME.
The other driver, who looked like she could be somebody's very nice grandma, immediately hopped out of her car, mad as a hornet. She waved her finger at me and yelled that I'd pay for this. Then she hissed "Bitch!" and called 911 on her cell phone. Hmm, overreact much? The damage honestly wasn't bad. There were some scuff marks on the side of her car, while I definitely took the brunt of it, with big scratches and some chipped paint on my rear bumper. Making things even more chaotic, this broad left her vehicle right where it was, blocking all the traffic in that lane. So while she was throwing her tantrum, there was a steadily growing line of cars filled with honking, swearing drivers hollering at her to get out of the way, as the blazing midday sun beat down on everyone. It was AWESOME.
The woman calmed down after a cop came by and said, no, ma'am, there is nothing I can do about this, and also could you please move your shit out of this lane of traffic. After she parked her car, this lady (who kept repeating how she initially "wanted to kill" me) admitted it was a horrible parking lot and that we simply had no way of seeing each other. She called her daughter, who came down and agreed that we should probably just part ways and each take care of our own damage, as opposed to filing insurance claims. And so I went home and fixed myself a cocktail.
Later that afternoon, though, my brother convinced me to alert my insurance company anyhow, even if I don't plan to use my coverage. Because who knows if this woman is going to go home and decide she has whiplash or something. So I did, and poof! Now there is an accident claim, and my insurance company sent me a helpful e-mail saying that everything is most definitely my fault. And just now, the lady's insurance guy called me and wants to know what happened, so obviously my company called her company, and now she probably thinks I am a big, fat double-crosser!
I am having a hard time cheering up from all of this. My trusty "it could be worse" line is currently out of gas. Also, whenever I stop worrying about the car stuff, I revive my worry about the TB stuff. Oh, a neat update there is that the principal at the school where I'll work, who has been there for decades, said I'm just the second person she knows of to test positive for tuberculosis. In decades. WOE IS ME, LITTLE BLOG AUDIENCE. WOE IS ME.
Wait, I know -- maybe I should just quit my job and run off to Mexico! How's June sound? Cancun, you say? A vacation that includes the most patient husband in the world, plus lots and lots of tequila? Swell idea. Consider it done.
1 comment:
Amy: My oh my oh my. Why do so many things happen to certain people? (Well, I have an idea, but ...) I'd get a 2nd or 3rd opinion on the TB stuff, if you can. I'm just not sure I trust one doctor's opinion on anything. Revel in the fact you have a great husband and an exciting new job and a fun old house ... life is good. Just tough to remember when so many things go bad. (yeeeccch I'll be writing for Hallmark soon, with sentiments like THAT)
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