I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I’m blaming you.

I busted a tail light on my car this morning. I’d like to say I finally said, screw it, and slammed into a tailgater in traffic.

No. Nothing that exciting. Instead, I smashed into our enormous garbage can when I was backing out of the driveway to take the kids to school. It was totally my fault. I admit it. However, I’ll totally be blaming My Honey just like every woman would. After all, he’s the one who took the garbage out to the street and put the can in that precise spot.

Getting out of the house every morning is complicated. I knew the damn can was back there but when I backed up I didn’t see it in the mirror.

BANG!

Oh, son of a b*****! I jumped out of the car and the damn can was laying in the street. These freaking cans are heavy. Really heavy. Like 650 pounds. I had to practically climb under the nasty thing to get enough leverage to push it back upright and up on the curb. Then there was garbage all over the street to get back into the can.

Even when I’d scavenged as much stuff as I was going to pick up there were still approximately 957 used Q-Tips scattered in the street in front of my house. Who the hell uses this many Q-Tips? Drop everything right now and move your 401K to Johnson and Johnson stock.

Do you know how much the Dodge dealer wants to charge for a new tail light? $168.00.

Sweet Zeus in Olympus.

Stupid $*&@# garbage can.

When’s the last time you blamed someone else for your own stupidity? Or wrecked your car?