Schmoopsie and I had been married less than a year when my craptacular Kia Rio gave up the ghost. It was no shocker, really, and I didn't blame the lil' thing. It served me well for a couple of years in college, and we had some good times together cruising the rural roads of Cache Valley en route to various jobs I had serving people with disabilities in their homes.
After the Kia's engine stopped working entirely, the Hubster and I proudly purchased a Honda Accord, which his coworker recently nicknamed Goldenrod. Reliable, dependable, and super low-maintenance, Goldenrod lived up to her (his?) Honda heritage in every way.
Today, this happened:
And it really, really hurt:
Don't worry, I don't have to sport that cute accessory around anymore. I do, however, walk like a mannequin (do mannequins walk? This isn't making sense. I blame the pain killers.) without turning my head at all. I'm told tomorrow will be worse.
Most importantly, I didn't have the Bug with me. I'm so grateful for that that I have a hard time even being upset about the rest of it. No one was more seriously injured, which is a blessing, and I was close to home. Though I was solidly rear-ended, I wasn't pushed into on-coming traffic or even the stopped car in front of me. Tender mercies, all.
And now I'm beginning to sway back and forth from the narcotics. To bed I go. Goodbye, Goldenrod.