This is a Part II from the previous post.
When you decide to stop reading Jayne Anne Phillip's new novel and get out of bed and go to CVS to pick up the wipes that you still need to buy for another eighteen years, you pull into a parking space and open your door at the exact moment a Prius, that stealth vehicle, cuts into your space and pulls up beside you and your door hits its right mirror and rips it off and flings it backward and you scream and a woman jumps out and asks to see your car and then asks for your insurance info and the whole time her face is utterly impassive. She is wearing turquoise shoes and a pink polka-dotted skirt. Your door is ripped up and so is her car. It's impossible to know whether she thinks it's her fault, and you know that it is her fault, but you don't want to upset her because for all you know she could be venturing out for the first time in the day, having spent the better part of it already reading in her pajamas and avoiding everything so you exchange insurance information and you go inside to buy the wipes.
You are shaky and bummed and realize that you should have stayed in bed and finished up Jayne Anne Philip's new novel and used the wipes in the earthquake kit. ***
***Unless there's an earthquake in less than 24 hours and then you'll be glad that you got those wipes but disappointed because you won't be able to get the medical marijuana tincture for Sophie.