Looking a gift car in the mouth

As we were involved in a minor collision recently (amazingly NOT my fault) the insurance company has loaned us a brand spanking new white car.

Brand. Spanking. New. White. My family.

These are things that should never ever be together, like blue and green, matter and antimatter or Heather Mills and Paul McCartney.

 

Because if they do ever get together the result will be destruction on an unimaginable scale and will cause a rift in the space time continuum. Much like the rift in my bank account that will result from muddy little shoes, fruit rollups, juice bottles, scratchy toys and kicky feet coming into contact with a freaking brand spanking new and white car!!

 

 

I have now mounted a 24-hour vigilance over the damned thing. I rush out the door and shoo away birds that fly near it. I peer through the curtains and glare at anyone who passes and dares so much as look in its direction. The postman must now leave the mail on the pavement. I insist that children hold their breath as they walk past my house. I chased a little old lady with a stick yesterday because she spent too long hobbling past it. And its not even my car!!!  

 

There is a reason I drive a 500 year old piece of junk. It’s so that I never have to worry about it being dirtied, scratched, bumped or broken into and so that people give me a wide berth on the road because I look like an unemployed uninsured crazy lady driver.

 

Somebody please take the thing away.

 

God knows how I’m gonna get it back to the hire company. I can’t possibly drive the thing.