As usual, I was in a rush. I seem to have 2 speeds: asleep and hurry.
I was late getting home, and in my flurry to get out of the garage and into the house, I shoved open my car door with too much enthusiasm and it clunked into the lawn mower with a thud.
“Dang it! That’s gonna leave a mark,” I hissed. Sure enough, I was horrified to find a looooong, angry, black mark scarring the car door. DOUBLE CRUD! How am I going to explain this to Mr. 4-Ever?
I have already wrecked this car twice. Every time I say to my man, “Honey, I need to talk to you,” he jokingly responds, “Robyn, did you wreck the car again?”
Shifting the blame.