Beware of garage explosions

The kids are safely dropped off at Grandma and Papa’s house. The entire ride home, all I can think about is getting into my pajamas, crawling under my favorite purple blanket and never leaving there again, unless it’s to get into bed, where I can continue being lazy, being comfy and watching TV. I finally arrive at home, alone. (the choir of angels sing!!) The excitement builds. My pajamas are only yards away! Netflix can be on in just minutes! I pull in the driveway, ready to start my VERY much needed 2 1/2 kid-free days. Things already feel different, even though I’m not in the house yet. It’s glorious. I take a deep breath in and let it o…WTF???!!!!

What in the hell was that noise???! And that jolt of my car?? I had to have hit something? How in the hell could I have hit something in the garage with that much force to make that kind of sound (it was LOUD) and to feel it inside the car like that? I was going 2 mph!! And I’m in my freaking garage!!!

My mind starts spinning immediately. “I rear ended someone last year, and I was without a car for several weeks and it cost us lots of money. I’m not working right now, we can’t afford to fix my car again!  This was supposed to be the start of my relaxing time! THIS IS NOT RELAXING!”

So, I back up out of the garage, park the car, and slowly open the door, unsure of what kind of carnage I might see. And carnage it was…

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Ahh yes. What sounds like a huge pop that you can feel inside the car? A basketball EXPLODING.

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Fortunately, my car is fine. Unfortunately, this is my son’s basketball. That he LOVES. This will have to be replaced ASAP. Thank the internet gods for prime shipping. We may even have it before he gets home from Grandma’s.

“Look son, it’s all shiny and new looking! Don’t mind that basketball carcass over there.”

 

 

 

 

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