November 12, 2007

So I get up Friday morning and walk out to my car to find it lookin’ thus:


At first, I thought it might be from the cold night (I had a few chips repaired on my windshield and I hear that temperature difference can cause them to crack).  I started driving to spiritual director and noticed a mark in the middle on the entire brake:


It wasn’t the weather.  Something had hit my windshield, which caused it to break.  Until this morning, I figured it was the potheads with whom I share a wall that I call security on all the time.  I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what the heck they used.

For fear of further retaliation, I parked my car in a distant parking lot.

This morning, I was walking through the grass toward my car and noticed something white in the grass.

I turned around and looked back at my original parking lot.  Three parking spots were visible between the two buildings.  I had been parked in the middle one.

Some kookamungafobia had been hitting golf balls across the apartment complex.

Goo.  Grrrr.  Ahhhh.  Yeah.


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