Poetry Friday Word for Tomorrow, and I crashthunk

Today is another Snow Day, the third in 9 days (well, to be precise, 7 school days). I'm Done with it, I'm tired of snow, I'm exhausted and blah and stressed, I purposely brought home work from work last night, knowing full well the schools would close, and I'd be home with the kids, placating them with tv and snacks after spending the morning in the snow, so I could get some work done.

That was a long run-on sentence.

I left work early yesterday afternoon to give myself ample time in the snowy, slushy streets. Two blocks from work, I encountered a guy on a bicycle in the right lane. (What? The? At this time, sir, I would advise you to use the sidewalk.) I went around him, and back into the right lane. Gave myself plenty of time to stop at the stoplight. Lots of space between me and the car ahead of me. Sitting, idling, the wipers whooph-whoophing.

Bam.
Beep.

The girl in the car behind me stopped, but with no room to spare.

She hit me.

I put the car in park, got out (avoiding the traffic that was now snaking around us), and examined the damage. Two rips in my bumper where her Special Plastic License plate scraped my car.

Fuck.

This was a new car.
My first totally New car.
That Sergei bought for me.
I was doing nothing wrong.
I had the damaged car...hers, not even a scratch.

It could have been worse, of course. She could have not stopped, we could have been hurt, the car could have been totaled. But. Still.

My. New. Car. Sergei's. New. Car.

I called My Love while the girl was giving me her insurance and license information (of course she was a student at Local University). I hated to tell him. I had to tell him.

We're neither one happy campers.

So.

The Poetry Friday Word for Tomorrow is HIT. As you are all smarty pants, you know this word has multiple meanings, so feel free to use it in your blog post tomorrow in whichever form and with whatever method you choose...story, poem, photo, experience at the Grammys, macrame plant hanger, recipe for crab-stuffed flounder.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get back to work. Manana, amigos.