Wrecked the car yesterday.
Rather stupidly made a left turn into a very tight gateway – actually, I was aiming for the gateway, but what I in actual fact drove into was the pillar. Anyone who’s ever done this is bound to identify with the lurching feeling in my stomach accompanying the sickening, painfully slow “crrrrrrrrrrrrunnnnnchhhhhh” noise that announced my car’s agony. I was crushed. Not as crushed as the back passenger side door, mind you.
In the midst of my heartbreak (I’ve had the car for all of 2 months – never had as much as a scrape on the old one. Typical.), I’ve also realised how disadvantaged single women are at times like this. I have not got a clue who to take it to, how much to expect to pay, who’ll be genuine and who’ll rip me off… I am at the mercy of my male friends, who seem to instinctively know about these matters. All I can do is hope that one of them takes pity on me, asks for the keys, takes the poor thing away, and returns it looking all shiny and new again. Not one of them is obliged to do anything of the sort, of course, as their responsiblity for women in their lives ends with their own wives. I’m a spare part, clueless, fending for myself and hoping someone will be kind.
Very annoyed about the whole thing, actually.
My first post. Hmm.
Feel as if it should be dramatic, witty, insightful and poignant all at the same time, but the only thought in my head is one about how I’m only doing this to put off doing the million other things I’m actually supposed to be doing.
The main thing on said ‘to do’ list is “Move house”. I’m not planning on moving it in its entirety, brick by brick, but by the end of this week I aim to have the contents of the house in which I currently sit (Cullybackey) transferred to the house I now have the keys to (Ballymena). This will be fun.
Given the enormity of this task, it stands to reason that I’m doing absolutely anything that doesn’t need to be done, for example, starting a blog for no real reason, eating crisps, teaching myself to play “Amazing Grace” on the guitar, blowing on the cat to see if it’ll get cross, phoning various friends and emailing people I haven’t spoken to for months. Procrastination is one of my gifts. I could win trophies for it. I mean, just now I spent a good 5 minutes rearranging the takeaway menus on my fridge door, followed by another few minutes tidying the fridge magnets. Despite the fact that in approximately half an hour’s time they will all be lying dismally in a cardboard box labelled “KITCHEN STUFF”.
Just in closing – the cat didn’t so much get cross as totally hopping mad, resulting in the scratch that now adorns my right arm. Excellent.