Life is funny. Crazy shit happens to me and, sometimes, I can handle it with a laugh. Like the car thing. It's busted, again. I'm so over this car. But getting the phone call and seeing it made me laugh. It could have been a lot worse, so that made things easier.
But my mom was worried when I told her. I reminded her that I don't have her luck. My luck is more like "what the fuck just happened, oh well, I'll survive," not "the world is coming to an end." Maybe that's a sign of the benefit of 10 years of therapy. I certainly prefer this attitude to its opposite, which I have occasionally experienced.
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