What really makes the fire bad...

I wasn't going to say anything, but really... let's just admit it:

I should not drive. Period.

The donation basket will be passed for the salary of my chauffeur. That'd be nice.  And the thing is-- I'm not a bad driver; because of all the tickets I have received over the years- I don't speed anymore.

Well, no more than 3 miles over. Except for the handful of times when the speeding camera dings me and I get a $200 ticket in the mail for going 7 miles over. BTW- the minimum speed the cameras can detect is.... 7 miles over. Sweet.

Or, like the time I ran into the side of a bus. Should I mention that I sideswiped a building once? It's a very common place where cars sideswipe the corner of this building on a pretty regular basis. This dingbat used to scoff at those bad drivers.... not anymore.

Maybe I should just drive a padded car with bad gas milage that's high off the ground and cannot go over 30 mph. It would have to be a very bright color, so other cars could see me and I would need two signs on the back: "Baby on Board" and "Student Driver."

The driving gods disagree with my idea that I should be driving. Take for instance, the other day... We had a great day at the pool and LMC fell asleep eating her turkey sandwich on the way home, a definite sign of a good day. Avoiding traffic, I exit at exit 4... only to hit more traffic.

Long story short (and mostly one I don't want to repeat) ... I got into a fender bender. More his fender of a bender than my bumper- which is what you get when a big ass Tahoe meets a 2009 Volvo station wagon.

Now, let's paint a picture: I have pool hair, a bathing suit on and flip flops. I'm pregnant and have that definite pregnant pooch of a belly. After the bender of a fender, I hop out of my car... in my bathing suit and try to feverishly put on my cover up, but not before an upstanding gentleman in the next lane over rolls down his window and says, "Guhl- you make that suit look good."

Seriously? I'm in traffic, in a wreck, in the summer heat, next to the Capitol on Penn Ave and you are rolling down your window to tell me that I make this bathing suit look good? Well... allow me to stop what I am doing and get your phone number and let's set up a date for later. I had no idea it could be that easy. Sheesh, dude. Keep your air conditioner in your car, please.

Information exchanged, a phone call to Bill the insurance guy, and small talk with the police officer... I notice a crowd of tourists moving slowly around my car.

What now?

I had a bassinet in my front seat that I had just purchased off of Craigslist. It was covering my purse and I had to put it on the ground to get all my necessary information out of said purse. Tourists were stopping to investigate the bassinet... to make sure there was not a baby in it.

I might be a bad driver- but an irresponsible mother [when it comes to car safety]- I am not. Thankyouverymuch. Move along, folks. Nothing to see here.

Sigh.

A phone call to Husband after I got home proved that he is always the much cooler and calmer one of the two of us. I was the one in tears (blaming the hormones) and all he said was, "Dude- it's fine. That's why we have insurance."

Two days and as many moves in the DOH! direction later- I need a bubble car and a bubble room with no sharp edges.

[when I called Husband about the fire, he did say, "Let's not have anymore accidents for a while, okay?" I promise I will try!]

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