I'm waiting to hear back from the insurance adjuster, but I figure this Car Fiasco will cost me a minimum of $1,400. So, Anonymous Driver Who Hit my Car in the Middle of the Night, you owe me $1,400. And a six-pack of Stella (for Emotional Distress).
Yes, I know it could have been worse. But it could also have not happened, which would have been way better. I often get the feeling that the Universe uses me as comic relief. The Great Creator, or Giant Talking Head, or Whatever is in charge out there says to Itself, "I'm bored. Let's fuck up Debbie's life in some way, that's always good for a laugh. Hey, it's been a good six months since her car was wrecked, let's do that! I love an oldie but goodie." Done and done.
Oh, well, shit happens. Especially to me, it seems, but I'm guessing, Dear Reader, that there are several of you out there that feel the same way. That's just Human Nature in some of us. And I am not looking for sympathy, just kvetching.
I know you are all out there waiting with baited (or bated, in the case of Dr. Redwine) breath to hear the outcome of the Saga, so I will keep you informed. And if you happen to be talking to the GTH, please ask It to let up on me a little, a girl needs a break (a good one, not a bone-related one) every now and then.
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