Mrs. HM Can Only Catch One Kind Of Break

The Universe is conspiring again! Conspiring against Mrs. HM. 

I had some irritating business about town on Thursday. That story might be told here or there at a later date. Since I was tied up over in Sis-Town, I decided to pop in the Save A Lot there to get Farmer H's precious mashed potatoes to go with his third night of meatloaf. I had a few things I needed from Save A Lot instead of Country Mart.

I parked around on the side of the building, about seven cars and two open handicap spaces from the end. It was the next-to-last parking space there, but I was fairly certain nobody would want to park way down there and block my door. A car was already parked in the space to my left. So even if they drove off, it was NOT a desirable parking spot.

As I pulled T-Hoe into the space and up to the concrete tire bumper thingy, I heard a POP. Great. What could that possibly be? I had seen nothing in the space. Then again, the sun was setting over the roof, and I was squinting through my sunglasses before pulling forward into the shadows. When I got out, I saw some crushed glass. Welp! Too late now. I went inside anyway.

Such a wasted trip! The main thing I went after did not appear to be carried by this store! My very special Shasta Diet Cola! Oh, they had regular Shasta Cola. And Shasta Diet Root Beer, and Shasta Diet Orange. But no Shasta Diet Cola! Not even a space designated for it! That was disappointing, Universe!

I managed to find the instant mashed potatoes Farmer H favors. And the strong paper plates, for $2 a pack cheaper than Country Mart, but not the flimsier version I use for slicing things on.

Back at T-Hoe, I kicked the smaller glass pieces from behind the front driver's side tire. Then I bent over to pick up the largest shard. There was nowhere to put it except beside the concrete tire bumper thingy. I backed straight out, careful not to turn the wheels and possibly grind anything into the tire. The pressure stayed the same all the way home.

When I told Farmer H that I ran over something glass, he said,

"WHISKEY BOTTLE! People are throwing them down all over the place!"

Which sounds oddly specific. Not sure where Farmer H has been hanging out. It did not look like a whiskey bottle to me, just clear glass with a curved shard as if from a drinking glass. Perhaps a glass used for drinking whiskey...