La. La. La. Whatever.

Apparently sleep depravity and emotional drainage has the same affect on my car as pregnant brain....

but this time, unfortunately, there was another casualty.

I could tell you that my sister chose a terrible place to park behind me ever so slightly caddy-corner so I couldn't see it out of my rear view mirror.  (But I have a back-up camera on my car, so that's not a good excuse.)

I could also say that I really thought I heard her pull out of the driveway before I put my car in reverse.

Instead, I'll tell you that that's what happens when Colts memorabilia enters Eagles territory.  (Sorry, Jared!)

My sister Robin said I should call my car "Bruiser."  I think "The Bruised" is more appropriate.  Justin was a just little upset about this one.  I told him that he has golf, and my recreational activity is wrecking our car.

I'm choosing to not let it ruin my week.
Sing with me...  La. La. La.  Whatever. La. La. La.  It doesn't matter.