Hit Me, Baby, One More Time
Now, my car has these cool blinking lights that I can turn on and off at will. I use them to let other cars know what I’m going to do. I thought it was standard, but I don’t see a lot of other cars using them, so it must be some expensive option the salesman duped me into. She certainly didn’t have them.
Anyway, I pulled out and was waiting for traffic to open up enough for me to pull out of the lot and onto the main road. That same car pulled up behind me (she apparently just dropped someone off) and we sat there waiting.
And then she hit me. Not hard, not fast, but just rolled right into me. Obviously just took her foot off the break and let the car roll until it stopped on its own (or hit something - me).
I gave that universal wave that means “what are you doing?” (seriously, the full arm wave, not “the finger”) and she sort of gestured in a vague way that I took to mean “sorry.” So we sat waiting for a few more minutes (it was rush hour).
And she hit me again.
This time I got out of the car and said “You’re running into me!”
“You’re hitting me!!!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
The loud thump and jolt in your car was what, exactly?
“Well, you’ve hit me twice now, would you back up, please?!?!?!”
There are more scratches on my bumper, but no dents or anything, and I just didn’t feel like getting into it, so I just got in the car and pulled out a moment later. She pulled out right behind me and I saw someone swerve to keep from hitting her, so I wish I had gotten her license and other fun stuff.
Later that evening, my mood had apparently rubbed off on my housemates. I found a small blizzard in Oscar’s room, where a pillow he sleeps with met it’s untimely demise.
Trevor played innocent,
but Aslan... wait, where’s Aslan? I don’t see him, do you?
Ah, you just aren’t looking hard enough.
Sometimes when Mommy gets in a mood it's best to just hide in the closet and be cute.