Tom grew up parking in the garage.
Now that we have a garage, he convinced me of the wisdom of garage parking without much difficulty. Now, I LOVE parking in the garage.
The kids can climb in the car without messing with shoes when we're just running to drop off/pick up kids from the bus stop. I never have to scrape ice off the windshield. And no matter how hard it's raining, we don't get wet when loading into the car.
Pretty much it's genius.
But I'm not.
Yesterday I parked a little too far over. I knew I was close, but when I pulled out in a bit of a hurry this morning I scraped the side of the van on the door jamb of the garage. I got a lovely purple stripe about 18 inches long on the side of my silver van.
Clearly not a genius.
To make matters worse, it was the side with the gas tank, the cover of which as one of those handy dandy finger pulls so that you can open it.
It caught on the side of the house and ripped the little door clean off. Well, not clean off, because the gas cap is attached to it, so the whole way to school and back it just dangled there, banging around and looking all white-trash-ish. Because I'm classy like that.
I'm hoping I can glue it back on.
Please, oh please, let it glue back on.
And just so you can visualize how cool I am, the door:
Where it's supposed to go:
Yep. I'm pretty much the coolest.