Upon returning, she made a beeline for the car and proceeded to roar it up and down one side of the house after the other, narrowly avoiding a major disaster when the car roared under the Christmas tree and upon being put in reverse, hooked a string of lights and began pulling it out and off the dangerously swaying tree while Anders and I screamed and frantically dove for her and the remote.
Sarah, if that tree had come crashing down, I would not be writing a journal entry right now. I would be buying plane tickets online for tomorrow to come and THROTTLE you.
The living room is now off-limits to cars. The driveway, however, is FULL of them, as we now (temporarily) own THREE. So decadent! Except that one is the Nissan, a grungy white scraptrap, soon to be sold, hopefully. The new (used) silver Audi is a dream to drive, even through 3 hours of rainy windyness.
Martin, in the meantime, has copped a major attitude and decided that I am "NOT NICE." I thought the teenage years weren't supposed to start until they were in double-digits, but apparently I thought wrong.