This morning, Stick and I woke up to the sound of someone banging on our across-the-hall neighbors’ door. At least, we assumed it was their door, since we don’t have too many friends who make unannounced Sunday-morning visits.
It was actually the police. Late last night, someone hit our parked car (which is kind of unfair because it’s so new that the title only arrived yesterday). The drivers’ side door is a little concave, and when our car got hit, it hit the car parked next to it. Oh, and our neighbor’s car has a Meg’s-bumper-sized dent.
The officer was really nice to me, which I totally wasn’t expecting. They think the driver who hit the car was drunk, which explains the late-night crash and why they wouldn’t report it. I’m kind of hoping the person who hit the car will come and admit it when they’re sober (and only have the insurance hassle, not the drunk-driving charge), but Stick says that’s not likely.
But that’s ok. If I had friends who decided to come visit that early in the morning, then I’d really have a problem.