My Halloween adventure was pretty darn scary. I was driving to work. Traffic was a little worse than normal, but nothing too bad. I was paying attention, watching the road, and then my airbag was going off, I was colliding with another car, and I was scared to death. The two other drivers involved were both very pleasant, and one of them even helped me get out of my car, which was leaking strange-colored fluids all over the road. We waited for the police and chatted pleasantly. How strange. The police officer who came to the scene was amazingly nice and ended up driving me to work. She offered to handcuff me and deliver me to my office, but I felt the law firm might not see the humor in that. So now my four-day-old car is at a body shop, waiting to be inspected by my insurance agent so that it can be fixed. Poor little car, all smushed. It apparently needs a new radiator, front bumper, and hood, among other things. Basically, if it is in the front of the car, it needs to be replaced. I think the basic engine stuff is ok though. Yay, engine!
My husband is my new chauffeur, and he is being very kind about it. He pretends like he is glad to have the extra time we have together in the morning as he drives me to the light rail or bus stop, depending on my transportation mood that day.
Speaking of my husband, he is currently watching the Fox special, Trading Spouses: When Crazy Women Freak Out. He loves watching shows that show people acting bizarre. He loves watching shows that make him mad; i.e., shows with people who think they are Better Than You but are really just judgmental nutjobs. I do not enjoy watching shows that serve the whole purpose of riling me up. I will stick to my Gilmore Girls, The West Wing, and Grey's Anatomy. I am the kind of person who does not look at car accidents when I have to drive by. And with that, this post has come full circle (pretend with me, people), and I can end here.
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2 comments:
Huh. So what exactly happened in your car wreck?
I passed a crash last night, and when I looked, my husband called me a rubbernecker. I've been chewing on this for a while. It doesn't seem ghoulish to want to know what's going on around you. Why do you avoid looking at wrecks? Maybe I have a lesson I should learn.
My complaints about rubbernecking:
If I were injured in a car wreck, I wouldn't want people staring at me as they drove past, so I just don't think it's right to stare at other people. And I wouldn't want to see someone if they were horribly injured. Also, I hate it when traffic is stopped until right after the accident, and then all of a sudden, everyone is going 70 mph again.
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