Remember when I said that being so unobservant is sometimes a curse, and sometimes a blessing? Well today was a major curse day, as I managed to not observe a big white post in the Palo Alto parking garage on Ramona Street. After backing up into said post, I sped away madly like a hunted criminal, and thus it wasn’t until I reached the office building 20 minutes later that I was relieved to find only minor scratches over the rear passenger-side tire. (Honestly, it sounded like an industrial-sized trash compactor when I unobservantly threw her into reverse and hit the gas.) Do you think I should've left my phone number on the post so it could call me for damages?

PS I *am* going to write something about Saturday night; for some reason, this seemed more pressing.

PPS This story just reminded me of this time when I was 16 and backed my 1978 Toyota Cressida into the propped-open glass door of the local Mobil station. The glass shattered. Since I was 16, naturally I panicked and rather than stopping to apologize and/or surrender to the authorities, I once again sped away in hopes of eluding capture. (Am I sensing a trend here?) The Mobil station owner tracked my license plate number (damn!) and called my mom, who looked skeptical when I answered the accusation with, "Mobil station? Door? Glass?" Eventually, I fessed up, tucked my tail between my legs and brought Mr. Mobil a check. Ah, the good old/new days.