The U.S.S. Quad Damage

I was going to write some prose about the trip to work. I was going to write about the plumes of smoke rising over the columns of trucks and semis wafting slowly over my car and eventually in my nose, the only thing worse being the fact that, somehow, I can still smell the cigarette smoke from the driver in front of me.

I HAD written down "Find a better way to get to work" as a task on my palm, complete with alarm at 7pm.

Then I crashed my car on the way home. Entirely my fault. In a haze of getting details and driving back, I heard a beeping from my organiser. I knew what it was. I'm a witty man, I know my irony. I know the fact that this month's salary is going into repairing my car. I know that this means that I've spent more on travel this month than I'll make by working. Since the car's not supposed to be driven by anyone under 25, the insurance demands a hefty premium.

Well... what can I say? I'm back on my knees again, and my dad's never been happier. He's even gleefully suggesting buying another car in addition to this one. I'll pay him back, of course, which (if we look at his figure of a $12,000 car with on-roads) leaves me in debt well into 6 months. The good news? I'm still as annoying as ever.