Y’all, I am diggin deep to bring you a smile on this Friday. Laughs are hard to come by this week, yeah? No doubt you appreciate my dedication.
Okay, well, Marian and Laura both shared stories of their accidents and I responded to them both, “If you’re gonna have an accident, that’s a good one to have.” I know that, cause I’ve had a good accident.
I’ve had an accident that wasn’t so good, because people are assholes who make blind left turns and crash their big metal truck all into Joey’s lil white Neon, causing her banana split to paint the interior of her car and ruining her plans to go through fabric with not-then MIL.
That’s what life is like. You get off work, stop at the DQ for sweets, head to Mamaw’s and then BOOM! BIG TRUCK! No ice cream or fabric for you! No invitation to stay for supper. Instead, you gotta go home and call your insurance agent and a body shop and do stupid, responsible, adulty things like find out what a deductible is and cry into your Kraft dinner.
Not so good.
Imma tell you about this accident cause it’s funny, and because it was my fault.
I ran over our television.
Let that sink in.
I ran over our television.
The Mister wasn’t home, but he’d been home. Was it R&R or stateside time? I don’t know when. I have no sense of time in Georgia. My husband was gone more than he was home, it was hot as blazes, and I lived in a shoe. It’s blurry. There isn’t a photo of it so I’ll never be able to tell you when it was.
We had purchased a new television. A flat screen. Consequently, The Mister carried the behemoth box of a tv to the curb. Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!
I had asked him to put it out the previous week, on trash day, but he is a procrastinator, so he put it out the last day he was home. Hot shoe blur.
I backed out of our garage, and out of our drive, and BOOM! CRRRUNCH! Initially, I had no idea what I’d hit, cause minivan. Oh. Tv.
“It’s okay, Mama hit the tv.”
“I forgot it was there.”
“It was an accident. That’s why it’s good you have carseats.”
I pulled back in a bit, adjusted my angle and pulled back out.
People came out of their homes to see what happened. My friend CaliGirl asked if we were okay. She seemed to think running over a television was a bad thing or somethin. I told her I was fine. I said, “If I had to have an accident, that’s a good one to have.”
When I got to where I was going (probably the commissary, cause shoe) I looked at it, and I thought, well that’s not too bad.
It’s not as though our minivan is a … well, she’s a minivan. She’s essentially a traveling shoe.
At some point, I had to tell The Mister that I’d run over our television. I knew it would lead to endless, torturous comments about women drivers and a substantial amount of teasing, but I had to tell him.
So I did.
And you know what he said?
“I fuckin knew you were gonna hit it!”
“If you knew I was gonna hit it, then why did you put it in my blindspot?!? Why didn’t you put it out there when YOU were still driving?!?”
“I even thought I should move it away from the driveway s’more, so you’d see it.”
“Then why didn’t you?!?”
“Ahahahaha! I fuckin knew you were gonna hit it!”
Happy Friday Everyone! Check your blindspot!