Like I needed another lesson in How Cars Are Bad.
Saturday I drove to the Mayan because I wanted to stop at Gart Bros. and get a new bathing suit. The one I bought in January, even though it looked like the exact same Nike model I was replacing, must be cut differently or I must be fatter because my right arm stroke pulled that breast half out to the side, and that just doesn't work in swimming. This new one is a Speedo, possibly higher on my sternum than the Nike, and definitely more around the side than the Nike. I used it yesterday and everything remained properly contained. The Gart parking garage's stalls are not divided only with yellow stripes on the surface but also with yellow columns. Backing out, I passed too close to the column and cracked the side headlight.
And I could have taken the bus! I could have taken the Colfax west and transferred downtown to the Broadway but nooooo because--even though Gart is right on Broadway--waiting for two southbound Broadway buses would have been inconvenient. I could have walked from downtown, at 15th, to Gart at 10th, but it was getting dark. I could have walked from Gart to the Mayan at 1st, but it was dark by then. And it's not as if I would have had to take the bus home at 10 o'clock, because Trish offered me a ride and was even surprised I was in a car: she said it was the first time in the two years we've been hanging out that I drove. Well, usually we meet downtown, whither it is ridiculous to drive especially from my house. Instead I cracked the headlight.
RDC suggested I not drive much until it's fixed, not to worsen the damage. But I drove this morning! Because I am going to grocery shop after work. Because I didn't grocery shop after my tri-attempt yesterday because I was too tired and my panniers were too full of sneakers for a gallon of orange juice and it could wait until today.
35 mph in at a 20 limit, in a school zone to boot.
Cars suck. So, apparently, does my driving. Fuck.
Arthur Inch advised the production of "Gosford Park" for accurate detail about service and I looked forward to his book about the art of the table for lots of esoteric detail. This I did not get. I know not to double-dip and how to eat an artichoke and not to serve corn on the cob at a formal meal; and if he allows table linens to be other than the traditional white damask, why is stainless steel not acceptable at formal occasions? Poo.