Confession time, I did it. Again. I wrecked my husband's pick-up.
And no, it couldn't be his old pick-up, either. It was his new one. The one we had for a whole three months. Three months.
And the last thing he said to me before I drove off was "Do not wreck my pickup. Do not."
Here's the worst part: I once backed one of my cars up into a bright yellow air pump at the gas station. I then backed another of my cars up into my husband's other pickup, in our own driveway. This is now the third time I have backed one of my vehicles into something.
I officially hate driving now. I tried to tell Barb Wire Man that I was never driving again, and I meant it. He forces me to drive myself places now, so I wait until I absolutely HAVE to go.
He just called me to let me know he took his pickup to the body shop to have it looked at, and listed all the things they said would have to be fixed, then added that the bumper was expensive. Very expensive...thank God for State Farm.
The conclusion we came to was if I do something, I do it right. I don't half-way do anything, be it a good thing or a bad thing. If I am going to do something, I go all out. I make sure I do a bang up job...literally.
I am never driving again. Never. At least not my husband's vehicle!
Be blessed today!
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