So I’m sitting at home, eating dinner, trying to relax, when I see a delapidated white car come screeching round the corner and out of my sight. That’s not unusual around here. Hell, nothing’s unusual around here; it’s like Hooker World some days. Anyway, I’ve spent the day trying to get errands done, and it’s been like pulling teeth, so I’m a tad tense.
Which gets even worse when I hear a knock on my back door. It’s the neighborhood cop, and I swear to God, I couldn’t figure out what in the hell I’d done. There’s just something about a cop at your door that’s scary. Then he tells me that someone rammed into my garage with their car and took off. Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened, because when I round the corner of my garage, there is, in fact, a crappy old white car rammed into my garage, but unfortunately, not through one of the actual doors. The owner evidently was possessed of a sudden and irresistable urge to take a stroll, and reportedly departed the vicinity with as much enthusiasm as that with which they entered it.
Now the fun starts. I call my insurance agent. Gee, he tells me, your insurance lapsed–eight months ago. *Uh, what?*I’ve sure as hell been making those payments, sometimes with great difficulty. In my state, if you have a mortgage, you have to have homeowner’s insurance, so the company switched me to someone else without telling me, I guess. They don’t send me much mail, so what I get from them, I notice. Lovely. It’s close of business, so there’s no way I can find this out till tomorrow. Meanwhile, my neighbor, who’s been storing his stuff in my garage, is doing his best to nail a temporary wall up and shore up the spot there used to be a corner. They wiped out the wall, four support studs, and everything down to the foundation. And they took off, leaving the car behind. Who can I kill?
Kill your neighbor. I know it’s not his fault, and he sounds very helpful, but hey – he is nearby!
Seriously, man, that sucks. The insurance thing is one reason why I have no impound account – I pay my taxes and my insurance myself. Gets a little inconvenient at times, but I’m in control, dammit.
I think I’m going to kill Fred Phelps. According to another website I saw, he was parading around New York today, offering the latest sign that he’s evil: a placard that said: “FDNY IN HELL”. I think that way I can get rid of some aggression, and perform a public service. Evidently if you’re as batshit anti-gay as ole Fred, you are some kind of homosexual-agenda promoter, and—and----I give up. My brain’s too friend to work my way through that.
So I have a plan: Phelps. Then yell at my mortgage company for jerking me around like this. I keep getting worried that they really did fuck up and not re-insure me or something.
Did they let you keep the car? You could go beat it with a bat or something.
This really isn’t the same as your situation, but I’m really pissed at the bank that holds my mortgage, though I was too lazy to start a whole thread. I just found out that my bank, who is supposed to be paying my taxes, hasn’t been, and I owe over a thousand dollars, which I don’t have. Freakin stupid bank.
Can you sue them for that? Let’s sue everybody! Better yet, let’s do what I asked the cop to do: Bring back trial by combat. I’m telling you, if they find a way to induce PMS chemically or something, I’ll be like the Terminator. Give me an M-16 and a bukrka and send me to Afghanistan, I’ll find Osama bin Laden.
No, unfortunately, they didn’t let me keep the car; they towed it. But I did keep one of the license plates, because I found the fucking thing in the garage. So I have a souvenir.
