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Sunday, March 27, 2011

Accident (or, Too Much Information)

 What happened was I was driving back to Long Island from New Jersey, where I had reluctantly spent the day test driving a delivery van for your uncle the art dealer whose old van had been stolen by idiots who later tried to sell him back the paintings ending in a police shootout and one of the thieves getting his femoral artery ripped by a police dog but later escaping from a jail in a wheelchair.  ANYWAY, I was driving through Brooklyn at night in a rainstorm during the transit strike all pissed because the rush hour traffic sucked and I hadn't eaten all day when I got majorly rear-ended and there was a huge pile-up. We think this wreck jostled some ingredients put in place the previous day by your dad and I. He lived in Seattle at the time but had flown out for the weekend to ask him to marry him and in the festivities we didn't exactly take precautions because I'm 35 and it was his 40th birthday, so we had been figuring for quite a while it'd be pretty hard to get knocked up. But then there was the car accident and that sucked but now we know it was the luckiest day of our lives because that's how we got pregnant with you.

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