Bumper Cars

I'm sorry, Caroline, but I just can't do it. I've been trying for over a week now to write the story of how we managed to get into a car accident with each other, but each time, I end up abandoning the blog entry because it's just too damn embarrassing. And frankly, what can I really say? Usually in these situations, you complain about the stupid bitch who jammed on her brakes or the dumb broad who slammed into you. But since I'm the stupid bitch and you're the dumb broad, well, that doesn't leave all that much to say, does it? We both know the idiot in the Mercedes was to blame anyway. (No offense to Mercedes drivers... unless you happen to have suddenly come to an abrupt stop on Rte. 1 last Monday afternoon for no apparent reason, in which case I have a few choice words for you right now.)

The important thing is that we're OK, the kids are all OK and our cars will be OK again some day (though not before a couple of mechanics get to take fabulous tropical vacations on the proceeds of our idiocy). It's bad enough that our husbands, our friends and our insurance agents all think we're complete fools right now. Do we really want to open ourselves up to a world wide web of people laughing at us by blogging about this? I think not.