How Could it be Any Worse?

I'd had a shitty day. I'm so over work. I hate going in there. I don't know if I need a new job or a holiday? (or a cigarette?)

I was driving over to my mum's thinking that I hate my life, I hate the world. You know, having a good old whinge to myself. I had just said to myself, how could it be any worse? You know, you shouldn't test the universe.

I turned into the driveway opposite my mum's, as I looked over my shoulder to back out, I could smell something burning. I drove forward and parked and then I saw smoke pouring out from underneath my bonnet. I thought the burning was something in the air, I didn't think for a minute that it was me.

I tried to get the hose from my mum's garden, but it snapped off at the tap. Mum called the firebrigade and when she returned, I asked her to get me a bucket. She got me an ice cream container, she said it was the only bucket she could find.

So I was reduced to throwing thimble fulls of water at the car, as smoke billowed into the air.

When the fire brigade got there, they couldn't get the bonnet open, so they smashed out the head lights and the grill to get the hoses in. Then they got a big jaws type contraption and broke all the front of the car to get the bonnet open, finally.

My beautiful Peugeot.

They said it was probably an electrical fault - isn't that what the firebrigade always says of every fire?

The cars wrecked. And I just sold my other car, a few weeks ago.