My Car has a Scraped Butt

After I dropped Jake off at his kayaking lesson this afternoon; I was in a hurry to get back home. So, even though someone had just pulled up next to me (in the middle of the parking lot!), I tried to back out. Everything would have been fine if a pesky wooden post hadn’t decided to move at the same time. But it did. And it wasn’t.

I saw a huge dent in my bumper! Naturally, I tried to call my husband who is in Palo Alto to fix it. After all, he’s only there because of some “big business” meeting. I’m sure he’d much rather stress over what damage (and how much it will cost) I’m causing to our vehicles at home! In fact, that information would probably help him by distracting him from the stressful “business” meetings. I am such a good wife.

But he didn’t answer. So, I called Marcy. She advised me to wait to tell my husband about the dent until he’s home because 1. What can he do from across the country and 2. It’s really not that big of a deal. She volunteered that she's dented thousands of vehicles. Then she offered her husband Tom’s services. I was fully planning on bringing my van over to their house and having Tom bang on my bumper with a hammer until I got home. But when I walked around the van to have a second look, this time minus an audience, I realized there wasn’t a dent – just some scraped paint. Perhaps if I’d looked a little closer in the parking lot I’d have realized it before I wasted ten minutes hyperventilating on the phone to Marcy because, you know, she’ll never get those ten minutes back.