Saturday nite, I was going to finish up a big batch of chili for the freezer but needed a couple poblanos. I got into our little Chevy Prizm, started toward the Vietnamese grocery, and was promptly (as in 50' from our driveway) smacked in the passenger side by something big, red, and heavy. It turned out to be a kid driving a red Impala who may or may not have blown the stop sign on the corner.
It's pretty ugly, body-wise, and there's some off-green goo (not engine oil, not antifreeze, so transmission or brake fluid?) dripping under the engine, so I'm pretty sure it's totaled. So the question is what we'll get from the kid's insurer and what we can buy in a market where reliable, fuel-efficient econoboxes like the Prizm are much more in demand than they were when we bought the Prizm a couple years back.
I'm still feeling a little out of sorts, neurologically speaking. Carmen and I went to my neurologist on Friday, but he didn't think I was having a flare. My theory is that it's a consequence of wasting too much time at work playing Super Bounce-Outor too much THC (I'd been increasingly foregoing brownies in favor of a more immediate intake apparatus). This week, brownies only, and we'll see how it goes.
My anxieties about unfinished projects have diminished substantially. Carmen's been getting a lot of the staining done on the porch, and we've done some nice landscaping. If any good came of our recent flooding, it was the certainty that even if we had put down grass seed it would certainly have washed out in the weekend we got 7" of rainfall. I think it has also helped that I've not been out fishing for 5 or 6 weeks, what with the no-wake restriction and the vast quantities of raw sewage that ended up in the lake.