Cathy in the Wright

A Fine, Fine Weekend

About six months ago, I noticed a rather large dent in the back bumper of The VP's Suburban. I asked him about it.

How did that happen?

Oh, someone backed into me in a parking lot.

No way! Did you see them do it or did they leave you a note?

No. It was just that way when I came out of the restaurant.

They didn't leave you a note?! Jerk! When did that happen?

Couple of weeks ago.

Can't believe I just now noticed it. Did you file a police report for the insurance?

Naw. I'm not going to bother getting it fixed.

Man, I can't believe someone would do that and not leave a note. What an asshole.

I stewed and simmered for a couple of days about the criminal who damaged our car (because Minnesota Nice REQUIRES that you not only leave a note, but try and track down the owner in the restaurant before you leave) but as it didn't seem to bother The VP too much, I let it go.

Fast forward, if you will, to Friday evening. The Senator invited a friend to stay overnight. The boys and I picked up the friend and headed to the local pizza place for dinner. The VP was meeting us there. We parked in front of the restaurant and I said,

Well, Dad's here. That's his car right in front of us.

The Senator asked, "How can you tell?"

Oh, by the big dent in the back bumper.

"Oh yeah. He backed into a pole." I unbuckled my seatbelt and whipped around to face my son.

He what?

"Yeah, he backed into a pole."

He backed into a pole. And you were with him? You saw it?!

"Yep. Right behind the Pizza Factory."

He told me someone hit him in a parking lot!! I can't believe he LIED to me about this!

The boys scrambled out of the car and hurried into the restaurant to let The VP know he had been sold down the river.

I sauntered slowly down the sidewalk to the restaurant. Not easy when the temp is hovering right about seven. But I was warmed by an inner glow. The majority of screw ups around The Outpost can be directly traced back to something I did. To have The VP mess up and try and hide it was better than winning the lottery.

I walked in and floated over to the family. The VP was eyeing the back door, but it was too late. "You," I cheerfully bellowed, "are SOOOO busted!" The boys were giggling and The VP just hung his head and slid into a booth. I couldn't sit because I was too busy dancing a little jig in the aisle.

Next time I goof up something, all I have to do is mention the bumper. In fact, the bumper is going to be good for at least half a dozen of my next screw-ups.

Yes, it was a fine, fine, weekend.

Posted by Cathy at February 12, 2007 10:46 AM