Well: I'm 39. Scott just fed me a delectable omelette breakfast worthy of an upscale Sunday brunch establishment, and now we're kicking back listening to The Who and being lazy. Life is good.
The metal mess that was once our car was hauled away yesterday, and I feel as though we can start moving on now. That was so frightening. Scott's still pretty shaky, and his entire body hurts: whiplash is such a weird thing. But eventually we can get started looking for our next car. This is going to be the car I learn to drive, too. Oh, sure, go ahead -- I see that indulgent smile! You just wait. I'll be behind the wheel before fall. But you'd better believe I'll make sure the thing's got air bags!
Now back to being lazy.