Thursday, March 24, 2011
I saw it as soon as I left Starbucks. There appeared to be a chip in the paint on the passenger side door of my car. I could feel my blood pressure on the rise remembering the incident at Best Buy a few months earlier when a five year old threw her mom's car door open and creased my car door. The mom looked at me and walked off. Just thinking about that now makes me crazy, freaking, screaming mad.
I'm careful around other cars. I respect things that belong to someone else, and I want my things respected. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is. My car seems to be a magnet for idiots. Just weeks after I got it someone scraped the entire bumper while I was in the gym. There was no way in the freaking world that they didn't know they'd hit my car. No note was left. Nothing was left at all except a huge scrape on my brand new car bumper. Tears. Major tears.
That's what was going through my mind as I neared my car. I kept my eye on the spot hoping that maybe, just maybe, it was a crazy reflection, a piece of a leaf, anything but a chip in the paint the size of a pea.
The closer I got the more sick I became, literally. It wasn't a chip at all. My paint was intact. I reached down to rub off whatever it was on the door. My fingertips were millimeters away from the object when I realized what it was. Someone had SPIT on my car!
I snapped my hand back so fast I nearly hit myself in the face. I could feel my stomach rising and I thought that any minute I would puke. I mean, I nearly TOUCHED it! The. Diva. Almost. Touched. Human. Spit. Just seeing it was enough to make me gag, I would have so lost my latte had my hand actually come in contact with the disgusting, sticky, body goo.
Respect people! Have some freaking respect!