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 |  Middle-Age Spread is NOT a Condiment!
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| The day after my bleach and carpet incident I awoke to a bright sunny day. My husband had recovered from his shock at the size of the bleach stain. We even talked about when we would look at new carpeting. Things were looking up. But then IT happened. My daughter and I piled into the car so I could give her a ride to school. As I SLOWLY pulled out of the garage I heard a loud CRUNCH - CRACK - SMASH! The driverside mirror had caught on the side of the garage door and pulled off. Great! "Oh Mom! Look what you did! You can't hide that from dad" were the words of wisdom from my daughter. Of course she was right. This was bad. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't caused a major expense the day before - you know, the carpet incident. If I had a job, it wouldn't have been so bad either. How would I explain this to my husband? I slowly trudged to the bedroom where my husband was getting ready for work. He was happily watching Sports Center unaware of what had just happened. Then I broke the bad news. "What the hell, Vick! You can't just go flying out of the garage. What's wrong with you? First the carpet, now this. We're going to be broke from you and your crap!" To say that I felt lower than an ant would be an understatement. I went through the day fearful of what I would break, spill, smash or otherwise ruin, next. Now I am banned from parking in the garage, and my husband is seriously thinking that I have brain damage. Maybe I inhaled too much bleach. |
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