So, last week sucked.
Last week sucked harder than an over-clocked dirt devil on crack withdrawl. And the suck of last week is turning into the suck of this week, and likely next week, and the week after that.
Last Tuesday I left for work—an evening shift. I sent the usual text to my wife, something along the lines of, "I love you. I'm leaving for work now. Be safe on your way home." Ten minutes later I have a text from my wife that says, "I'm ok but I'm hit I can't talk right now." I got an immediate adrenaline rush. There's something about my stubborn brain. She told me in the first sentence she was alright, but my brain wasn't going to believe that until I saw her. So I called.
Long story short. She is fine. Not even a minor injury since the wreck. Her truck is not. We just recently got word the damage on the outside alone is enough to total it. We'll get the official word on its totalling soon I imagine. We will both be AMAZED if for some reason they tell us it can be frankensteined back together, despite the excessive damage after being spun around and slammed into a poll. It would be a miracle I know my wife would prefer. She loved that truck. But a miracle probably not going to happen.
I'll spare you my rant about how after people turn seventy they should have to take a drivers test every five years until they die. I'll spare you. Just know that they should.
Anyways. So we shall await the official word on the totalling and to hear about whatever amount of cash we can get to go 'new-to-us' car shopping.
It terrifies me to think anyone's loved one could be taken away in the blink of an eye due to a drunk driver, someone texting and driving, or like us, some old couple on vacation—to freaking Missouri of all places. (I kid. We're great. Come visit. We need the tourism money with a governor like ours running shit into the ground.)
And on that happy-dappy-fantastic note, go about your day.
Hug your friends and family. Never forget to tell the people you love that you love them.