And the winner is....the F350!

So, obviously there's a story behind this one.

About a week and a half ago I was washing dishes when I heard (and felt!) a big ruckus. My first thought was that a large piece of furniture had spontaneouly tipped over of its own accord. But all the chests of drawers (didn't you always think they were called chester drawers? I did!) were still standing. Then I thought maybe the clothes rod in one of the girls' closets had collapsed under the weight of their considerable wardrobe...nope.

My next I idea was that there had been a bad wreck out in front of my house. I quickly walked to the window, doing a quick mental review of CPR. Airway, Breathing, Circulation...look, listen, and feel for breathing...etc.

No wreck.

Then I heard that voice in the back of my head. You know, that little nagging one that is usually pretty accurate and almost always the bearer of bad news:

"Someone ran their car into my house."

So I went downstairs and opened the door into my basement. Sure enough. My garage door was hanging by a thread, or rather a cable, and the wall beside it was kaput. There was an F350 flatbed truck in my driveway and a very sheepish guy standing beside it. He had wheeled into my driveway with the intention of turning around. Unfortunately my drive was covered in black ice. And the rest is history. (The really ironic part is my husband bought a big bag of Ice Melt the day before but hadn't had a chance to put it out yet. I didn't bring that up.)

The driver was extremely embarassed and apologetic. I told him not to worry, it could happen to anyone. I called the police to get a police report. NOTE: if you need a cop, call 911, it does NOT matter if no one is hurt! It does NOT matter if it isn't a real emergency. Or so I was informed by a very snippy lady at the police department.

Then what happens is, even though you said repeatedly ,"No one is hurt, I just need an officer to come do a report," an EMT will show up at your front door and ask if everyone is ok.

So I spent the rest of the afternoon (in addition to chasing my girls around!) talking to the police officer, my insurance company, the drivers insurance company, etc. And now, almost three weeks later, the gaping hole in our house is boarded up with plywood, and insurance adjusters are the bane of our existence.