I was in a car accident last Wednesday night. I am fine physically, but I found out yesterday that my car is totaled and so emotionally and financially, I went into a tailspin. Yes, the accident was not my fault. And yes, I have insurance. And yes, I have no injuries. But the fact remains that no matter what they pay me for my car, it won’t be enough to buy a new (even if it’s used) quality car. I had a 2005 Prius that I LOVED and it was paid off. Ugh. It’s just not a good time for this to happen. When is a good time? I have no idea. Maybe when you are retired and live on a lake? Anyway, my parents are coming to the rescue to help me. You might think that at 39 I feel bad about taking their money. You would be wrong. I need help and they are willing to help me. This is not a time for pride. I should find out from my insurance company all the details today. This is a new experience for me. I should look at it as an adventure!
[sigh]
Yesterday I went to the body shop to make sure all my little things (cds, receipts, floppy temporary sandals from having a pedicure) were out of the car. I was pointed toward the back of the lot. Specifically, “Total Loss is a row of cars behind that rusty dumpster.” So true. I burst into tears when I saw my car. I know they had to take it apart to find out what the problem was, but it was still in pieces. It was like going to identify a body after an autopsy only they hadn’t put all the organs back in and sewn it up. They didn’t even cover it with a sheet. They thought, “Well, this one’s dead. No point in makin’ her look pretty.” I recognize that my car is an inanimate object, but I had a lot of memories in that car and they were all there behind that rusty dumpster, too.

I still love going to the Y here. It’s funny because lots of people don’t lock their stuff up. They don’t leave it out, but they put it in a locker. So when I go to put my things away, I open about 6 or 7 lockers stuffed with purses and coats before I find an empty one. I find the whole thing strange.

The Coen Brothers are going to be shooting their next movie here and they had a call for extras about a week and a half ago. I have heard through the grapevine (one exists in every city) that some of the background actors would be [potentially] getting the chance to read for roles. My ego would not let me attend. This IS a time for pride.

I got my hair cut on Monday. I will not be returning to the dame who gave me this chop. My hair looks like it’s in an “in between stage.” Nobody wants a hair cut that looks like something they are growing out. It’s short. Shorter than I have had in about 15 years. It’s too short to put in a pony tail but not too short to have bedhead that looks like something out of a Tim Burton movie. Sometimes I look at myself and I think, “Hmmm, this hair cut would have been really cute in 1994. On a man. Behind a dumpster.”

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