And no, I didn't spend my holiday in labor. (Obviously.) Though I think I would have preferred labor to our activity: car shopping. Wait, you think, Didn't you guys just buy a car a couple of years ago? Yes, you'd be right. But what you don't know is that last week I wrecked that car. I wrecked it good. (I write with a bit of cheek in this matter to offset the tears that may surface at any moment because of said car accident.)
Let me first assure you that no one was hurt. Our car, however, and the other car involved, and a fence, did not fare well. My newest mantra is Better a car than a person, better a car than a person. So now we're on pins and needles waiting to hear back from the insurance company about whether or not they're going to total our car, which we'd actually prefer, because we think in some twisted way we'd come out ahead. And so today we spent our entire morning shopping for the car that we'd get to replace our broken cartoon car.
Though we did find a suitable replacement-slash-upgrade (dependent, of course, on the insurance ruling), I left that car lot convinced that there's a ring of purgatory dedicated to perpetual car buying, complete with slimy sales managers and one-time-only-in-your-whole-life deals.