I think it's official: I have forgotten how to blog. Ordinarily, when something relatively notable happens (like, I don't know, I get rear-ended on my way home from work), it is only a rather brief journey from "Well, this sucks" to "Hey, I can blog about that." Today, however, it took a full four hours from time of incident to time when I realized misfortune could be blog fodder. I'm not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of that.
In reality, the event wasn't even particularly notable. I could go on with the silly fate arguments... "If only I'd left work two minutes later." "If only I hadn't stopped at the Saturn dealership to get my oil topped off." "If only I hadn't exited the highway earlier than usual in an attempt to avoid the latest round of road construction." But all of that is pointless "What if"-ing. It's been too long since I've seen Sliding Doors to remember all the details, but didn't Gwyneth Paltrow actually fare better when she missed the train than when she caught it? Maybe I dodged a worse bullet by getting rear-ended by a different one. Who knows.
Unfortunately, the only possibly claim-worthy damage in this little mishap was to the bumper of the car in front of me, which I hit when the woman behind me hit me. And since I'm pretty sure insurance company logic states that each driver is responsible for any rear-ending damage to the car in front of them (even if the rear-ending occurs only because someone behind pushed them there), I'm pretty sure I'll be paying for that kid's new bumper. Bugger. Happy birthday, little man in the red Civic. (No, really. It was the dude's birthday today. A car accident--however minor--might beat a snowstorm. I'm not sure. Poor kid.) Also, is it just a coincidence that the Saturn behind me did no damage to my car and my own Saturn did no damage to hers? It's like the sometimes magical, self-healing Saturns know their own kind and wouldn't possibly do the discourtesy of inflicting any damage to one of their own. When a Civic is in the picture, though? All bets are off, clearly.
The good news, of course, is that no one was hurt. Well, no one unless you count me, and my mysteriously scuffed toe. When the woman behind me slammed into my bumper, my foot slipped off the pedal and my sandal fell off, and somehow in that process (be it in scraping against the edge of my shoe or against some part of the pedal), I managed to scrape up the top of my big toe such that it actually bled for a few minutes and still hurts a bit now. That's right: true to form, I injured myself in the stupidest way imaginable given the circumstance at hand. I injured my toe in a minor car accident. Seriously, that would only happen to me, right? (Well, me and Abbersnail, maybe. Oh, come on, Abbers; you know it's true.)
On an entirely unrelated note, I remain amused by everyone's enthusiasm to weigh in on my first ramen noodle experiment. I am also amused that the day after I posted that, Natalie Dee weighed in as well. Check it out:
Mmmm... Fried noodles... you know you want some again now...
* A one-time thing that I've now done twice. Please, please let it end here.