Roll On

I had to drive about an hour and a half for a manicure appointment today. It's rare that I take any time for myself so I decided to be super basic and strut into my nail appointment with a jumbo Starbucks latte. 

Instead, I barged in late to my nail appointment with a bladder on the verge of exploding. I whipped into the first empty parking spot I found and flew through the door of the Medical Spa and Day Salon asking for a bathroom like they were a gas station.

After a pee like Tom Hanks on A League of Their Own, I sat to get my nails done. It was lovely (but totally not worth 90 minutes of holding in my coffee to get there). As I stepped out of the salon here's how my thoughts unfolded...

Hey, that looks just like my car. 

But I parked on the other side of the lot.

Where's my car?

Wait, that is my car.

Why is it on the sidewalk?

Oh shit!

Did it hit that pole?

OH SHIT!

That's right! My car rolled across the parking lot, hopped the curb, hit a pole and sat on the sidewalk while I got my nails done. That pole was the only thing that kept my car from rolling through the front door of a doctor's office. 

I stood there with my mouth hanging open for God knows how long. Once all the pieces came together I was too embarrassed to even check for damage. Other than the pole. That damage was rather obvious. 

I got in, drove right off that curb and never looked back. I couldn't believe I did that. My car developed a new feature in her old age. You can take the keys out without putting the car in park. Isn't that convenient? I'm blaming my bladder for the whole incident. Honestly, no human can think clearly when their eyeballs are floating. I'm surprised I even remembered to take the keys out.