Earlier this week, in a hurry, I quickly said goodbye to the boys as I grabbed my purse and headed for the garage. "Dad will be home soon. Call either one of us if you need anything. Mrs. Nice-Neighbor-Lady is home if Toddler Child poops!"
I was late for a doctor's appointment. I usually tap the garage door opener as I exit the kitchen and enter the garage, like most people, but for some reason I skipped this step. I climbed in the car, realized the garage door was closed, reached up and opened the door with the remote attached to the visor, like most people do when they're pulling IN to their garage. I started the car, put it in reverse and hit the gas. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Then, I hit the garage door. Hard.
When I was in Arizona visiting my parents in January, I hit their house. I wrote about it here. These incidents rarely get a reaction from Chris or my family.
I called Chris on my way to the doctor. He was in a meeting so I left a long babbling message.
"It's me. The weirdest thing happened. I was in a hurry and I didn't open the garage door before I got in the car and I'm used to the garage door being open already after I start the car and so I just backed out like I usually do... Oh, maybe I didn't say I opened the garage door from inside the car... It's not that bad. The door was halfway up when I hit it... I mean there's damage... to the back of the car... and the top where I scraped it pulling back in... and the garage door... I think if you use a hammer you'll be able to fix it so it can shut... it's stuck... I couldn't assess it totally because I was late. ... ... ... We've been wanting new garage doors. Those dark steel ones are cool. Costco has a great deal... Sorry. Call me."
This happened only days after receiving these photos in the mail from the Scottsdale Police Department.
We were on the final stretch to my parent's house after being in the car for TEN hours with the kids and the dog. Chris regrettably let me drive from Flagstaff to Scottsdale, an easy two hour stretch. [Did I mention I get carsick? Driving is an antidote for carsickness.] We were less than five minutes from Mom and Dad's house. It was like a horse seeing the barn. I was photo radar-ed traveling 63 in a 45.
Even though the ticket was addressed to ChrisTOPHER, there's no denying it's me, ChrisTINA. The document requested Chris either accept responsibility for the offense or identify the perp. I think I'm going down.