Sunday, October 14, 2012

And Sometimes They Hit and Run

Morning Readers,

I think, out of all types of luck, bad luck tends to benefit me the least. But, just because it's bad luck doesn't mean it's not so ridiculous, so highly unlikely, it'll find me staring into space and laughing into the flashing lights of fire trucks and police cars, and wondering at what point I cut Lady Luck off in rush hour traffic.

Because she clearly doesn't like me. Or, as I assume about most people who are mean to me, she must be jealous of the ease and grace with which I wear flip flops in winter.

My first mistake was to try and leave the house yesterday. Generally, if a stay at home mom leaves the house, the universe sends out a warning bell... a mother's attempting to exit the premises without children; someone stop her or make it completely unenjoyable so she'll retreat to whence she came.

Nature. Fate. Indentured servitude. It's all very complex.

So I left with the new van, made it to the post office, pushed my luck and made it to the children's consignment shop for twenty-four dollars worth of fashion faux pas for the children, and headed home.

And then, just as I was about to turn into my neighborhood. Just as I was about to have a successful outing all by myself. Just as I was about to feel good about my choice to wear yoga pants the baby had clearly thrown up on...

Someone hit me.

I can make up a lot, Readers.

I can't make up being hit three times in two months .

I can't make up being hit so hard, glasses that were on my face were thrown to the back of my head.

I can't make up the fact whoever it was backed up, with their front end smashed in, and drove off before I could even get a license plate number or the make of the car.

So, whoever you are. Yes, you. The one with the gold, low-riding four door, rear-end spoiler, and crushed in front end. I may never find you. But, I'd like to thank you, not only for sponsoring today's blog post and ruining my bumper, but also proving the theory that husband and I should never, ever try and buy a car ever again.

It's rickshaws and Radio Flyer wagons for this family, from here on out.

Until Next Time, Readers!