Someone decided to smash into my car, Squishy the Neon, while parked in the street on Monday night. They did not, however, leave a note. Dad blames me for parking in the street. I blame the person who hit me. We agreed to let the blame part go.
It’s not so much the money thing because it’ll be covered by insurance, but it’s just the pain in the ass factor. Who has time for getting estimates and insurance assesments and whatnot? I can tell you who–someone who is sitting here at 10:13 at night purposefully writing an extra blog post instead of reading the second half of an arbitration transcript whose brief is due on Monday. That’s who.
I’m waiting to get a break. Instead, I continue to get broken.