Cracked Up

The week we left Texas, I drove the minivan after a couple of days of using Mike's car. There was a new injury to the windshield--a whorl-shaped rock hit that looked like the Target logo. Great.

Since the move, I've been driving the gas-sipping Honda to work. Both routes on my commute to SLC are under construction, so the truck traffic kicks up a lot of extra gravel.

On Wednesday night, I heard yet another thwack to the windshield. Didn't think much of it.

Thursday morning I walked out to the car and noticed a foot-long crack curving from under the wiper and up across the windshield on the passenger side. Holy crapoly. Like we need another thing to fix.

Windshields, take a number behind the ailing AC unit, the unwelded gate opener, the steeply pitched driveway we all scrape pulling in, the stairs that need railings, the wood trim that needs repair and paint, the windows that need replacing, the water gauge on the pond that doesn't work, the weeds that need pulling, the boxes that need unpacking, etc., etc.