1. I’m turning into my mother: I backed into my husband’s car.
Back in the day, my dad had a brand-new 1984 Buick Park Avenue. That car was The Shit. We named it Fred.
When Fred was new and still rocking his new-car smell, my mom kind of backed into him in the driveway. She was gone for a very long time, and by the time she came back in the house to ‘fess up, we thought she’d left and come back. Really, she’d been sitting the driveway, trying to figure out if she could blame the big dent on the paperboy. But she ultimately came inside and asked, “Do you love me?” My dad just looked at her and said, “You hit the car.” Then, he began his mantra of “It’s just a car” – kinda to my mom, mostly to himself.
Now, when it was my turn to back into my husband’s truckasaurus? I came back into the house immediately and was all, “Your CAR is in the FUCKING DRIVEWAY! I HIT your FUCKING CAR.”
Yes, my anger was somewhat misdirected. I have never been in the running for Miss Congeniality, and that’s OK.
But my sweet husband surveyed the damage, hugged me, and wasn’t mad. Basically, it’ll buff right out. Except for the hole in back quarter panel of my trusty Honda. That, we’re just gonna live with, like a signal to the rest of the world that I cannot be trusted to back my vehicle.
2. Our microwave died.
I see this as a minor inconvenience. My Guy is devastated. To him, the microwave dying is on par with our entire house burning to the ground.
He wanted to reheat a pork chop for lunch today. He earnestly turned to me and said, “I guess I’ll put it in the oven. I figured 350 or 400 for 20 minutes. Does that sound about right?”
Oh, sweet friend.
3. My brother and his awesome bride became parents today.
By all accounts, their daughter is the most beautiful and perfect baby ever in the history of babies. Huzzah!