You called it, Bezz.
This time yesterday, I was floating on a Xanax cloud and thinking, "Ok. We have a $500 deductible. It'll be tough to swing it, but we'll work it out." R was able to leave work yesterday morning and meet me at our mechanic's place.
Cool Tom (who has seen my piercings, by the way) said he didn't think the damage looked too bad, so I drove the wrecked car all the way home, and R and I spent the afternoon watching the rest of Season One of Deadwood.
I'm so grateful that throughout this whole ordeal, not once did the thought "Oh my God, my husband is going to be furious..." enter my head. I am fully aware of what an incredible gift that is. I knew with 100% certainty that R is loving and supportive and he would not make me feel bad for having this stupid accident. He is SUCH a fantastic husband.
Still, when the insurance rep called me this morning just before 9 and said "Mrs. Karma, I'm afraid I have some bad news...", I kinda felt obligated to give R the chance to be pissed at me. Cuz having to buy a new vehicle just before closing on our house is a whole lot more drama than just dealing with the $500 deductible. But he still wasn't mad.
And did you SEE the pictures?? It really didn't look that bad, right? I DROVE IT HOME, for cryin' out loud. How can they total it out if I can drive it? They're giving me $2600 for my 2000 Mazda Protege with 113000 miles on it. Ugh. I'm so not in the mood to go car shopping right now.
Oh, and I'll just take a moment to sing the praises of my frind Anti-Stella, who totally rocks. A little backstory is necessary - I must first preface this with a story from yesterday. Tito was not satisfied with the dinner menu, so I told him his choices were to eat his dinner or take a bath, put his pajamas on and go to bed.
He chose the latter, but not before telling me, "I don't want you! I wish you were Cooper and Nelson's mom!!" That would be Anti-Stella. And for the record, let me just say I'll bet Anti-Stella would have done the same damn thing.
Oh, real quick, another funny - Tito was in the tub and Pie came in and offered to help Tito get clean. Pie asked if it was ok if he got his shorts wet. I said, "Sure, that's really nice of you to help Tito wash his hair! What a thoughtful brother you are!" thinking he meant Is it ok if they get splashed a little? And I wouldn't have cared if that was the case, shit, he's doing me a favor.
No. Pie got in the tub with his shorts and underpants on and just took a bath right along with Tito. WHY didn't he just get nekkid? How much more trouble would that have been?
Anti-Stella and I have the kind of relationship that I can call her up and say "Hey, it's Sarah... and I'm in one of those situations that only I or maybe Lucy Ricardo can manage to get into." She is the kind of friend I can call when I can't find my car keys and my kids has to be at school in five minutes. And don't think I haven't.
A couple of weeks ago, tore the house apart looking for my stupid car keys and I called her in a panic and she was all set to pack her crew in the van and take me to drop Pie off, and, had it come to that, she'd have helped me pick everybody up three hours later too. But as it turned out I found my keys under the covers of my bed - don't ask - and tragedy was averted. And guess where I went immediately after I dropped Pie off?
Lowes. To get not one, but two spare keys made (cuz I figured I'd probably lose the spare, too). I knew that as soon as I had two spares, I'd never lose the damn things again. And I guess, in a way, I was right. Yeah, now I have three keys to a car I can't drive. I'm so pissed.
So today, Anti-Stella took Pie for the morning so R and I could go look at cars. I'm telling you, she ROCKS. And R and I found a vehicle we like. So now we have to give the insurance people the title so we can get the money for totalling the care and use it as a down payment on the other car. It's a van, actually, which I said I would NEVER be able to drive because I'll feel like I'm driving the Partridge Family Bus.
We can't find the damn car title. ANYWHERE. I have saved every single Family Circle magazine published since 1998, and I can't find my fucking car title. Worst case scenario, we've ordered a duplicate which will be here in a week, but FUCK, what a pain.
I should have stayed in bed yesterday.
UPDATE - so as I'm typing the words "I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN BED YESTERDAY", I hear a knock at my back door.
I had been continuing my frantic search for the stupid car title, and the kids were all up in my grill, so I told them to go play outside. Beeb asked if the three of them could take a little walk.
They've asked to take a walk - the three of them together, without me - before, and I have NEVER said yes because I have this horrible vision of someone seeing three little kids walking down the street without a grown-up with them and calling DFS on me.
Today, however, they were underfoot and driving me crazy and I just wanted them out of my face for five minutes so I could tear the fucking house apart looking for the title. So I said Ok, fine, yes, just take the Walkie-Talkies and don't cross the street and just go down to the corner and back and come right home.
Five minutes later, it's Officer Friendly of the Karmaville PD, following Tito up the driveway.
"Are you Mom?"
"Do you know where your son was?"
"Well, he was supposed to be taking a walk with his sister and brother..."
"Ma'am, he was down at the intersection of Rush Hour and Extremely Dangerous, sitting by the fire hydrant watching the cars go by."
So he wrote down my information and asked me a billion questions, and then when Beebie and Pie got home, he talked to all three of the Apes, telling them that they need to LISTEN TO THEIR MOMMY.
I'm just so fucking mortified.
This is not my first run-in with the Po-Po as a direct result of something Tito did. Once when he was about nine months old, just barely walking, I heard my phone ring, and because I was changing Pie's diaper, I called out to then-5-years-old Beebie to answer it. I asked her who it was, and she said she didn't know because she couldn't find the phone. Oh well, I thought, Tito must have been playing with it and hid it. No problem, whoever it was will call back.
Less than a minute later (I was still changing Pie), the doorbell rang, and since I was still busy, again I called upon The Beeb to assist. I asked her to get the door and tell whoever it is I'd be right there.
"Who is it, Beeb?"
"Oh, it's a couple of police officers."
I figured they were there to ask me about my creepy downstairs neighbor, so I wasn't freaking out or anything. I walked into the living room all nonchalantly and asked what was going on.
"Ma'am, did you call 911?"
"We received a 911 call from this number."
"Well, it wasn't me, I have no idea..." Then I figured it out. Somehow, within about a three-second span, Tito pushed 9-1-1, then hung up, then hid the phone somewhere.
"Well, we called you back, and when no one answered, our standard procedure is to send an officer over right away."
And they were fast, I'll certainly give them that.
"SHIT, the baby must have been playing with the phone... Christ, I'm so sorry..."
"Oh, that's all right, ma'am. We're just glad everybody's okay."
The child entered the world via emergency C-section, and has been nothing but a shit disturber ever since.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007