Everyone hosts their own pity-party now and then, but I really try not to feel sorry for myself. I'm a lucky person! And when I'm down, some things can snap me out:
1. Doing useful work around the house.
2. Recreational shopping.
3. Looking at pictures of Amanda, Nova and Maya.
4. Cooking something complicated.
5. Blogging.
6. Having a glass of wine (if it's after 4 pm.)
7. Horses.
But this morning, I was just too bummed to even write about it. Here's the story. Yesterday I drove my new car out to North Bend to the barn. Oh, it was fun showing off to my friends and I don't get a fancy new car very often. But as I used to tell Amanda: Pride comes before the fall...
(There must be a streak of Calvinism in this family.)
It was the very first time on the freeway. Wow. Our old Honda CRV isn't a horrible car, but it's pretty noisy, bumpy and needs memory foam seat cushions if you sit in it for more than a few minutes. You get the picture. There's just no comparison to smooth-as-silk, powerful Mr. Avalon.
Anyway, I was driving home down I-90, blameless as daylight, 70 mph which felt like 50, listening to iTunes on Bluetooth and enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of isolated luxury when WHACK! out of NOWHERE! a rock hit the windshield right in front of my face, leaving two big nasty chips with cracks. NO! This can't be happening. How could I be so unlucky? Mr. Avalon doesn't even have 150 miles on the odometer!
Well, that first ding on a new car is the hardest, but on the bright side at least I got it over with now. This morning I sadly and quietly (no happy music playing) drove Mr. Avalon up to the best auto glass shop I could find in Seattle to see what they had to say.
Fortunately, the chips were small enough to be "fixable." The thought of putting a after-market windshield in my 5-day old car was almost too much to bear, so that was very good news. The bad news is, if you've had rock chips filled on a windshield, you know it is never going to be completely invisible. The boo-boo is there, but I'll learn to ignore it.
Just a little reminder that bad stuff happens. Mr. Avalon is now slightly flawed, but I love him as much as ever.
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