God. Can I tell you that I am really, really, really still feeling guilty about that parked car? I am. I think I'm going to give myself an ulcer or something.

I try to make myself feel better by saying to myself, "It was an old car," or "I didn't hit it very hard," but the truth is, if I'd just left an hour of church (I am an evil pagan and don't go to church, but still) only to come out and find my car bumped or scuffed or dented, I'd be insanely furious and upset.

It wouldn't matter how small the scuff was, or whether or not I could easily buff it out. I'd be pissed. And I'd feel hurt and betrayed and mad at the world in general (because I take everything seriously and personally, but that's another story).

So, the fact that I didn't hit the car very hard (because I was just sort of drifting and didn't have my foot on the gas and was going in reverse. Again, I'm trying to comfort myself) doesn't make up for the fact that I left the scene without leaving a note. Damn it.

And the fact that I blew out a tire on the freeway and nearly got killed trying to maneuver to the shoulder and had to pay almost $100 for a new tire thus making me feel like I got bitch slapped by bad car karma doesn't make up for it. It doesn't.

So, I'm really, really, sorry, Person Whose Car I Hit. And although you will never benefit from this, rest assured that The Next Person Whose Car I Hit will receive a note from me, and will be compensated accordingly for whatever damage I do. Person Whose Car I Hit, try to think of yourself as an instrument of the universe. You've taught me a powerful lesson that I will always remember. You've fallen on a metaphorical grenade for The Next Person Whose Car I Hit.

Sigh. Even though I'm kind of making a joke out of this situation in this entry, I really, really do feel like shit about it.