Happy birthday, The Texan!
Today is the taking it easy day - The Texan is off at the bestest spa ever (The Watermark, if you're ever in SA and looking for a fantabulous experience) and tonight we're going out for seafood. Well, one of us will be eating a terrestrial animal, but you get the picture.
Saturday, on the other hand, I'm throwing him a small party at a restaurant where one of our favorite bartenders works (the one we've followed from bar to bar. Let's hope he sees it as simply being loyal customers). I've spent some time getting stuff ready for it - decorations, invites, etc.
And as part of the party prep on Saturday, I ran into another car.
Another car that was parked all by its lonesome in the parking lot of the bakery where I wanted to order his cake. Another parked, SHINY RED CAR which couldn't have been easier to see.
See, I'd gone to order The Texan's cake, but the shop was closed (at 3:30 on a Saturday. Strange, right?). So I was thinking about whether I should call the shop owner or if it would be better to come back on Monday, and if so, what would be the time the bakery would most likely be open. As I was ruminating, I realized that I'd hit - no, too violent, I'd pressed up against another car. Now, pressing up from behind may be sexy on the dance floor, but it really should be avoided in parking lots.
I jumped out, first looking to see if there were any witnesses. None. So I darted over to the other car, where I saw to my relief that it was barely damaged. Most of the harm was done to our car, which is white. Or should I say, was white, as the back bumper now is a lovely swirl of pink, red, and white.
However, there were a few really small scratches on the other car's bumper. I debated it, but after talking to The Texan, decided it was really better to leave a note with my contact information. Which I did. Eventually. Hooray, I passed a real-life ethics exam.
Turns out the owner of the car is the daughter of the woman who owns the bakery. The first question I asked her when I heard that was, "What hours is your mom's bakery open?" She's getting it fixed, and I'll be paying for it. So stupid. So avoidable.