This is Not My Car

Obviously my car is in the body shop, so I’m driving Derek’s today. It is also a Nissan Rogue. I like my car better, though. Not because it’s a better car, just because it’s mine.

But I guess that’s the price you pay for being careless. That and however much it costs for repairs.

I don’t even know what happened, really. All I can think is I just wasn’t paying attention. I may have missed a stop sign.

They were really nice people. Like, unusually nice. They stayed with me until Derek arrived. He was dropping his son off at work. The poor kid was so shaken up.

The good news is there was significantly less damage to their car. Cosmetic, I think. They were just glad everyone was okay. It’s making me teary just thinking about them.

Like I said, I’ve dealt with a mean person or two. I suppose everyone has.

Anyway, Monday. It’s weird, but I look forward to going to work. I like it. It’s an excellent workout. I’m beginning to adjust to the way things are now. I’ll get there. And I don’t bring work home with me. I never really minded that, but it can get tricky with little kids.

I’ve asked about upstairs openings. There’s the one possibly that they know of, the safety assistant. Maybe? I am on the safety committee.

I don’t have to be popular. I’m probably not, anyway.

Better not tell them about my fender bender.