So, yesterday was a really super-interesting day, the definition of interesting being in the “May you live in interesting times” curse kind of definition of the word.
Rehearsal in the morning, which was fine, then breakfast with Blake with made me late for my last walk with sweet little Honey, the yorkie. I didn’t have Larry, which meant that I totally miscalculated the timing, and it wouldn’t have mattered at all that I was late, except that the owner was there. He didn’t seem to mind, but I had never met him before and felt like a real dope.
I’ll miss Honey, she’s a good little girl, but she got walked because the owner was living in a hotel until his house was built or remodeled or something, so I assume that there will be a backyard situation and that’s why she won’t need a midday walk anymore.
I was going to work at the studio for Blake that evening, so I rushed through the day like a crazy person, which is why I what happened ended up happening.
I always park in the same spot under Groovy’s building, but yesterday my spot was taken, so I had to park in the next spot over. Which is next to a giant yellow pole. This may or may not be foreshadowing.
I finished the walk with relief that I was going to make it to Santa Monica on time, pulled out of the space, and CRASH! I had forgotten that I was in a different parking space and was pulling out as though I was in the space I was usually in, the one not next to a pole, and had hit said pole. I got out of the car, hoping to see maybe a teeny dent. Here’s the thing with plastic cars, you don’t teeny dents, the whole front bumper had been ripped off.
So I had hysterics and called Blake to call the station and tell them that I couldn’t be there, then tried to call Mom, but she didn’t answer. I texted Groovy’s owner and asked if she minded if I hung out at her place while I tried to reach my Mom, because I didn’t know what to do, if I should get the car towed to the garage or not, and where was the garage, etc.
I sat in Groovy’s apartment, sobbing, until I had to stop because the dog was completely freaking out, licking my face and jumping up and down on my lap. “FEEL BETTER!!!!” was the not-so-subtle dog subtext, so I calmed down.
I kept trying to reach Mom, I called her cell phone, I called the house phone, I kept calling and calling and she never answered. I started getting really worried. I decided that I couldn’t all day, so borrowed the owner’s painting tape and taped the bumper back on, then slowly drove home.
As I got closer and closer, I started getting more and more frightened about what I would find when I got home. I really thought that Mom might be dead. I pulled into the driveway, her car was there. Then I went into the house, calling her name, she wasn’t downstairs. I ran upstairs, “Mom? Mom?” and finally she answered. She came out of her room and I was completely sobbing. I explained that I had had an accident and that I couldn’t reach her and I thought she was dead. Apparently, the ringer was off on her phone, which she had forgotten to turn back on, and she had been taking a nap, and you can’t hear the house phone from her room.
God, what a couple of hours. The accident was bad enough, ripping the bumper off your car is pretty upsetting at the best of time, but not being able to reach Mom was so scary. I could have gone to choir because I wasn’t going to the station, but I just was not in the mood. I went to bed early instead.
(cross-posted to livejournal)