So yesterday day I got a quarter mile from home, stopped at a stop sign…and some crazy bitch plowed into my driver side fender and door.
Spook and I were not hurt.
Christine, my beloved 88 Caprice, however, is fucked up. I was soo mad and well…emotionally traumatized. My poor poor baby. I love that car, even if everyone else thinks it’s a dinosaur. I love those old box style tanks. And had I not been driving a tank, the crazy lady’s car would have been in the car with us and I probably would have had a broken leg from the angle at which we were smashed into. She didn’t slow down, she just slammed into us. Bloody hell,, that was not a good morning.
On the plus side, Dad and his woman came to town and with some prying and pounding got the fender undented enough to make the car driveable.
On the bad side…THE CRAZY LADY HURT CHRISTINE!!!!
(I call her Christine in honor of the car from the Stephen King novel, not because she is evil, but because I kinda wish she was.)
Ironically, the woman who hit me has the fitting last name “Batty.”
You can’t make this shit up.
I am still shaken, and toss in more sheer panic for today…
I HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW.
Instant basketcase on top of yesterday’s fiasco.
I feel like I am careening out of control on some busted roller coaster ride with everything coming at me. Christmas, bills, this interview, now worrying about whether her insurance company will even cough up enough to put Christine back as she was.
Life has a sadist’s sense of humor.
Oh well. Some days you’re the dog, and some days you’re the hydrant.
As of late I have been the hydrant.
I am however proud of myself because as fucked up as yesterday was, as soon as the car could be driven, I was right at the shop. Neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor some crazy lady assaulting my beloved car…
It hurts to look at her.
Everyone is like, “what about your kid, aren’t you even worried about her?”
Of course, my kid was my first concern. But she was in the back in her seat, far from impact zone, and she was fine, did not even cry,
I was up and walking.
So, kid fine, mom fine…
I feel justified in mourning the one true victim there. Christine. She is the one who is all banged up. Old and outdated she may be, but the car runs like a dream and has less than 100,000 actual miles on it. For an 88, that is a big deal.
I am prattling because I am really nervous about my interview. There are 7 other people so I probably don’t have a chance. But fingers crossed.
I think all in all…with the med situation, and yesterday, and all…
I am upright and functioning. That counts for something right.
Wish me luck.