|Yes, she is old enough to drive. Even old enough to drink.|
But not at the same time, of course.
Today I received a phone call from her- as she was barely able to speak.
"Oh my gosh- you'll never guess what I just did!"
"What?" I whispered under my breath as I was at work and my office mate is an engineer. The crazy kind. I didn't think he'd find this conversation appropriate for work.
So I tried to speak in Pig-Latin on the phone so I wouldn't look suspicious.
"Ut-way id-day oo-yay oo-day?" I continued in my secret, nearly unbreakable code.
"Well, on my to-do list today was taking the truck to the emissions place to get it checked out as the inspection is due soon. So I'm just going about my day and driving down the road. Hmm Hmm. Hum Hum. [that's how she sings]
"So I was almost there when I realized-- [long dramatic pause] I was driving the car!! You know, instead of the truck- which was the vehicle that needed the emissions checked!! It was back home, peacefully sitting in my driveway." She was nearly out of breath by now.
I couldn't make this up if I tried. It was almost as bad as the day I sent a letter to my sister in Washington- but forgot to write her address on it. Just spaced it. I found this out as the letter arrived promptly back in my mailbox the next day. Of course I had at least wrote out MY return address on the thing. Another stamp down the drain.
Go ahead. Tell me your blonde moments. I know you have them! You're safe here. We won't judge. Well, mostly.