During the twenty-four hours from Wednesday evening to Thursday evening this week, my husband had a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

See, back when I was in Jordan, someone smashed into the back of our car. So we had it in the shop this week to get it fixed. And the insurance company kindly gave us a loan car--a brand new one. A nice one. But very wide and tank-like. And Wednesday night when my man went to pick up a friend's kid to take him to youth group, we had a little misunderstanding about where said kid was to be picked up. So Gary drove around a dark parking lot looking for this guy. Then Gary stopped the car and called me for more info. After he hung up, he accelerated again...and ran right into a pole, destroying the front end of this new car. (The pole was invisible because the part of the car where metal meets windshield blocked the view.)

Then last night the toilet in our bathroom (upstairs) overflowed. Not only did the water spill, but the part of the commode that's supposed to shut off the water got stuck in the open position, so water flowed and flowed and flowed until Gman could open the back off the toilet and tinker w/ the defunct mechanism.

I was on an important business call, so I was no help at all.

He ran down to the laundry room to grab beach towels so he could sop up the mess before it destroyed the first-floor ceiling, and in the process, he knocked over a new, full box of Fab. Yup. The entirety of its contents--boom--dumped onto the floor.

He's thinking of moving to Australia.