I would very much like it if someone would bonk me on the head so I won’t remember the past week.
Let’s start with Monday when I drove my daughter to pick up her truck at the repair shop. Clay and I were so relieved that the repairs amounted to $300 instead of the $800 we were envisioning. But, as I was backing out of the parking lot I hit the iron tailgate of a giant flat bed truck and it busted the rear window out of the van. I can’t stop singing, “I bust the window out cha caw..”
Now, get this…the week before the bust the window out my car incident, Clay had backed the van into our truck which busted the rear bumper on the van and that was just a few days after I had backed into a tree leaving a nice dent in the back door and just moments after my husband had asked me where that big dent in the back of the van had come from. My response to his question was a guilty smile with no explanation, but after he crashed into the truck I decided to fess up, “I backed into one of our trees.” I’m not sure that made him feel any better, but it sure took a load of guilt off of me…..until I bust the window out my car.
Guess how much our deductible is? Yep, $500. So, that $800 we were thinking about, essentially is correct. I’m driving around with black trash bags adhered with duct tape across the back that flaps like a Super Hero cape when I excel faster than 30mph. Which is pretty much everywhere I go. One of my son’s friends calls it so “Ghetto”.
I can’t make myself go take photos, so I Googled wrecked van and this was my favorite.
Why? Why did I choose a wrecked van next to a wrecked house. Because….because of the well head. What’s a well head? Well…and I mean well, not well. Why is the English language so stupid and difficult? I mean really, it’s amazing that we think it makes sense, not cents or scents…geeeeez. Anyway, I also Googlely-woogely-wooed a photo of a well head and this is what Google had to offer;
A happy, old man covered with tattoos and white fur.
A Farrah Faucet bust with lumpage coming out of her clavicle bones.
None of these are well heads or well heads. Stupid English language.
I decided to get off my big-fat-fatty-fat and go outside to take a picture of the darn thing so you know what the Hell a well head is.
This is a well head, not a well head. We still have water, but I think we’re just one little nick of a wire away from not having water. We didn’t realize it was busted until it appeared from under the pile of snow that was covering it. My neighbor plowed into it when he was doing us a favor by clearing our drive. He has no idea that he did this and I’m not going to tell him.
And while I was at it, I went ahead and took some photos of my beastly ride. I know, I’m awesome and so is my Ghetto Van. Dude.
The Super Hero cape.
I like how the broken well head is in the back ground, like it’s flirting with the van, “Hey Baby, who busted you up? I know your pain Sweet Silver Lady. I’ll show you my broken PVC if you show me your shattered glass. Growrrrrrr.”
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to crawl back into the hole where I’ve been hiding. And I’ll listen to this song fifty more times in lieu of antidepressants.
Fast Tube by Casper