It was really never my intention in life to become the girl that everyone talks about.
You know...the girl that weird things happen to, so that everyone else has stories to tell while at parties.
You've all been there...standing around at a party, cocktail in hand, when someone says, "You'll never believe this one...I know a gal who...." and they go on to tell the most incredible, unbelievably weird tale about some unfortunate woman.
Well. I am THAT unfortunate woman.
Take yesterday, for instance.
After my daughter heads off to school, I sleepily stumble into the kitchen, where I encounter the following note on the counter:
Innocent enough, yes?
I know my kids.
And my suspicions are immediately aroused.
Why would my "innocent" 12-year old daughter leave such a note on the counter?
Something was up, but what??
Sure enough, when I headed to the garage, I found my next clue:
A post-it note stuck to the hood of my car.
Getting closer, it read:
If you can read between the lines of my daughter's total ignorance of the layout of a car, the note is warning me that I have a tennis ball stuck in my car.
Not UNDER my car.
Not as in, it rolled under my car and I may accidentally roll over it.
But, up IN my car.
As in, the tennis ball went under my car, bounced up with enough force, that it is now lodged somewhere "up" inside my car.
Or, to put it bluntly, I have a tennis ball stuck up the a$$ of my car.
I can see the Ford mechanic now...mingling at a party...beer in hand...saying, "Yeah, I had a gal come in one day who had a tennis ball stuck up her car's a$$!"
However, in my daughter's defense...she at least warned me.
And she at least apologized.
And she loves me.