The Day The House Shook

My mind has been a little bit of everywhere lately. Lots going on at the big employer, lots going on at home. I'm trying to relish every minute I can with my boys, which tends to mean squeezing life out of every minute. (Which is why this weekend, we did absolutely nothing scheduled ... to prevent being over scheduled every weekend this summer.) So ... the results of my mind racing everywhere ... not good.

Thursday evening when I came home, my husband opened the garage door as I was driving up and pointed to the mailbox. (This is his way of saying, "honey, I didn't get the mail, please pick it up.") So, I got out of the car in the driveway to grab the mail. I forgot to put it in park. How I did this, I have no idea, because I've done this same routine multiple times. How I could even get out of the car without putting it in park is beyond me. As I walked back up from the mailbox, the engine revs. The next thing I know ... the car is moving. Yes, the car was moving without me in it! I raced to the car, but not before it hit the side of the garage. Result: scratched bumper and dent in the side of the garage frame. My heart sank. We had just had a new garage door installed last year. (Due to a hailstorm, but the irony is that frame had had a dent in the same place. Which, after D had had a chance to come to terms with my accident, he responded ... hmmm... apparently the house just wants a dent there really badly.)

I didn't know what to say, because once I got into the car, I had seen my issue, but how it happened I just don't know. Clearly, I was not being in the moment ... clearly the Swiss cheese that my brain has become has now resulted in a sever consequence ... perhaps it's early onset dementia (which I shouldn't joke, because it runs in the family.) Of course, the car that I did this in already had some scratches on the back bumper from where it's previous owner (my mother-in-law) had run into something, so I actually didn't feel too bad about the car. Now, of course, I keep telling myself, the dent in the garage door frame is not that noticeable. Fortunately, it was just the front of the frame, so it didn't actually do any damage to the functioning of the garage door. (Thank goodness for that, at least!)

Much later that night ... D looked at me and said "you should have heard it when the car hit the garage ... I thought we were having an earthquake." That's when I knew that this too shall pass. When we're able to make jokes about it. Of course, I have to give him credit. He didn't yell or scream when it had happened. He just looked at me, looked at the car, looked at the dent on the door and shook his head. I think we've finally learned that in life, things happen, and it's not worth getting to upset about them. And I think he realizes, I'll be reminded of the incident every time I back out of the garage.