A is for airhead

It's the first day of the Blogging from A-to-Z Challenge this month, so my topic is about dealing with an airhead.

The post isn't a positive, cheerful one. I don't normally have a rant section on my blog, but I thought that I'd writing about my recent experience driving home.

Last Thursday, after spending some time after work with my guy, I drove home. There is nothing unusual about my commute home. It takes me an hour to drive home on the highway.

I was stopped at a red light at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, like the rest of the cars around me. It was completely unexpected, but I felt a tap. I had been lightly rear-ended.

I got out of my car. The woman behind seemed to be slow at it. She asked me whether "[I] had felt it?" Um, yeah. It's not like I frequently get out of my car on a red light and feel my car move forward because another vehicle behind me has hit mine.

So, I immediately know that I am not dealing with the most intelligent person in the vicinity. I asked her what happened. She told me that she "thought that [she] had stopped." Thought? Either you have or you haven't. It was obviously the latter.

I am always prepared for anything. My guy calls me a girl scout sometimes, because I am that resourceful. I pop open my car's trunk and take out the Lysol wet wipes. I proceed to wipe down my car's bumper. I then look at the screws on her licence plate and see whether they have made dents in my car. Sure enough, one screw managed to take paint off my bumper. There were in the form of three tiny dots.

I took pictures and let her know. At first, she denied it by saying that she could not see it. I told her that the screw aligned perfectly with the damage. I then told her to run her finger across the area. She finally did and noticed that she had indeed caused paint damage.

I didn't want to report this issue to the police. It would take hours to file a report. The damage was minor. Instead, I asked her for $15, to get some touch-up paint.

She went back to her car to look for some money. I asked her to put her hazard lights on. Apparently, she was too busy looking for money to hit a button that takes a second to do. So, I had to wave the cars behind her ridiculous BMW.

What did I learn about her? First, she was wearing high heels, so she may not have pressed down as hard as she thought on the brake pedal. Second, she had loud Middle Eastern music playing, so that could have been a distraction.

Frankly, I think that she should not be driving. It was unfortunate that I was in front of her.

She asked me how I knew that touch-up paint was $15. I told her that "an idiot had done something similar in the past." She did not get that subtle insult, which I found amusing.

Anyway, she did manage to cough up the money. Before I got in my car, I took a picture of her car's licence plate. I then drove off, making sure that she wasn't following behind me. I made a right turn at the next intersection. She did not follow suit.

I will be going to get some touch-up paint soon and make sure that my car doesn't rust too quickly.

Good morning call and aftermath chat about my rear end

On Friday, my guy did the sweetest thing. To most, it wouldn't be a huge deal. It was to me.

I tend to get to the office by 08:30 when I am there in the mornings. I got a call at 09:05 from my guy, who was in the training room. He has never done that before.

The fact that my car was obviously in the parking lot tends to put him at ease and makes him happy. I noticed that he was in the office earlier than usual. He told me that he stayed at his friend's place overnight, which is closer to work than if he drove from his place. It also helped that many folks took Friday off, kicking off the long holiday weekend here, and made the morning drive to work a lot easier.

"Did you get enough beauty sleep? Well, you don't really need any. You're fine," I said to him.
"I woke up at my regular time of 07:00," he replied. I could tell that he was smiling, judging by the cheerful tone of his voice.

We talked some more. I am not sure exactly what we were talking about.

"Maybe I should flash them, to make the seminar is interesting," he said.
"Well, if you did that to me, I'd be very happy. However, to your attendees, you may not have a job after that," I explained.
"Are you by yourself upstairs?" he asked me.
"Nope," I said.
"Shouldn't you be careful about what you're saying?" he said, in his usual paranoid way when it comes to our private conversations in the workplace.
"Don't worry. All is fine."
"I do worry," he admitted.
"I know you do. It's okay."

My guy wished me a good day and said that he wanted to say good morning to me. I am glad that he did. I said that we'd talk later.

At lunch, he called me. He was waiting in his car in front of our office building. Minutes later, I waved to him while walking to his car and then got in.

I reassured him that all was okay with our conversation this morning. My colleague actually thought that I was talking to our other writer. My guy was fine after that statement, as I am comfortable talking to anyone.

"How's your rear end?" my guy asked, referring to our flogging session the other day.
"It's good now," I said. "The pain was immediate, lasted for a few hours, left some marks, but went away faster than I had thought it would. When you spank me hard, that pain lingers for a day or so. It's good. We should do it again."
"Sounds good," he said, smiling at me. "I was worried about you."

It's great that he's my best friend, my lover, and my disciplinarian. It all works nicely.

Hugs are good, with a bit of teasing

I am a few posts behind schedule. I usual go in chronological order with my posts. I do have to write about last Wednesday, but I've decided to talk about this week first. I'll talk about Wednesday another day.

There has been a lot of stuff happening at work. I feel that it's good, but there's uncertainty right now. Again, that'll be either a Wednesday post or a subsequent one.

On Monday, I received an e-mail from a manager who is a jerk. He basically has added a feature to our software bug tracking system that makes me do more work. I was annoyed, but not really depressed. I talked about it with my guy at work. He knows that I do a ton of work and wants me to be happy.

"I want to give you a hug," he said to me. He's good at making me feel better.
"That would be nice, but it's probably not a good idea in this setting," I replied. He nodded in agreement.

We left work together. We got into an empty elevator. He wrapped his arms around me. It was nice to do the same. I love being in his arms. He tenderly kissed my head, always reassuring me in his own way that things will be okay.

My guy was supposed to travel to India and stay there for two weeks. He was to depart this weekend. Unfortunately, getting a visa for India is a longer process. Our manager is not good at planning. Needless to say, my guy is bummed out.

We are similar in that we both love to travel. He has not been on a business trip for three months. In a selfish way, I have enjoyed having him here. I get to see him more often and we have more quality time together. However, I do want him to be happy and was genuinely pleased that he was going to India.

Well, he was down about not travelling until he gets his visa. He told me that he felt stressed out, irritable, and grumpy. He actually went to a sauna to relax for a bit on Tuesday, which made him feel better. It pains me to see him unhappy.

It seemed like a carbon copy of Monday night. We both left the office and got into an empty elevator. I reached out and hugged him. I don't say much, but how I hug him reveals to him how I feel. We didn't let go for a long time. We eventually did separate. He reached for my hand and squeezed it. Of course, I did the same thing and smiled at him.

We talked for a bit in the parking lot. My guy looked at me. He liked the pants that I was wearing. He liked how slim my legs looked to him. I told him that he didn't look too irritable there. He laughed.

I told him to drive safely home. We had talked earlier about how we react when someone cuts us off. My guy drives aggressively and flips the bird at the driver. I end up driving up to the car, driving beside the car for a bit, making eye contact with the driver, and then speeding past that car.

"I will [drive safely], unless someone cuts me off," he said, smirking.
"What if I am the one who cuts you off?" I teased.
"I would have to hit you hard," he said, obviously referring to my backside, and not my vehicle.
"I would welcome that."
"I would rear-end you, too," he said cunningly.
"Literally and figuratively, I am sure."

My guy seemed in better spirits. Perhaps I can make him feel better soon.