Yesterday, Mom’s five-year old neighbor Avery came over.
“Katie,” she told me. “Your car is all smashed.” (Simon’s been lacking his normal duct tape lately. I really do need to do something about this.)
I tell her that it happened a long time ago, when I lived in Chicago.
“You should just take your car back and get a new one,” she said.
Good advice.
Too bad the insurance company doesn’t see it the same way.