And now, back to our story …
I woke up way too early, dying of thirst. I tiptoed to the bathroom to fill a glass, and of course had to pee as soon as the water started running. I shut the tap, set the empty glass on the towel on the counter so it wouldn’t clunk too loudly, and peed. After that, I washed my hands and went to dry them on the towel that was laying on the counter. Yes, THAT towel. The one with the glass on it. The glass that crashed to the tile floor and shattered in about 62,349 pieces. The tile floor on which I stood barefoot.
BFJ (startled awake): What was that?!?
Me: I seem to have broken a glass.
I now know why I will never have tile in any bathroom of mine as long as I live. Because when you try to sweep up broken things, the pieces lodge in between the tiles and you have to sweep over and over and over again to scoop the pesky little shards out of hiding. A vacuum is always a better option, but apparently those aren’t routinely provided in hotel rooms.
So I only had about five hours of sleep, but that was okay, because a spa visit is SOOO relaxing, and that was on our afternoon schedule. Well, it was relaxing, sort-of, but it would have been even more relaxing if my esthetician didn’t talk so much. I have been to many spas, but I have never experienced someone who talked as much as this gal did. She just didn’t stop! I put up with it during my body scrub and wrap, but for my pedicure, I finally picked up some old magazine to “read” just so she’d stop talking. I mean, they do have to explain the treatment and ask you some questions , but they don’t have to repeat themselves over and over or ask you what you’re doing tonight. That’s what a hairdresser is for.
The spa was also where I tipped over this tall, gangly branch arrangement. I was just trying to get to an armchair to sit down and fill out my information sheet. It obviously was trying to guard that armchair. At least it wasn’t a heavy arrangement, so it didn’t break the window that it fell against.
Anyway, BFJ and I later said our goodbyes and I headed home, scrubbed and polished and glossy and craving quiet. I had it for a couple of hours, then DD came home and PG arrived. But the lack of sleep was catching up to me, so I went to bed pretty early.
Sunday morning around 10, just after DD left for the day, the doorbell rang. I answered it. To be blunt, it was a summons server. Remember that car crash I had last summer? Apparently, the other driver is now claiming damages from me because he claims that he was injured in the crash. He wants general damages, special damages, costs, interest, and “such further and other relief as this Honourable Court may deem meet and just”. He is claiming that because of my “negligence’ (two pages of listed negligence, by the way), he has sustained a whole whack of injuries including some that “before the trial of this matter will be disclosed on medical/expert evidence”. Oh yes – he has also suffered “loss of enjoyment of life and will continue to suffer a loss of enjoyment or life in the future”. And “a loss of income, past, present and prospective”.
This is the guy who, when we collided, said he and his girlfriend were on their way to the airport to go to Las Vegas the next day. This is the guy who yanked open my passenger door right after impact and asked if I was okay (then yelled at me), who told me that he was okay when I asked him the same question, was later walking around just fine, was talking animatedly to his girlfriend and various other people at the scene, who hauled luggage out of his damaged car, who got first into the fire truck then into the police car to keep out of the rain, who phoned a buddy to come pick them up, then climbed into said buddy’s truck with the girlfriend and luggage.
My point being, injuries??? He certainly wasn’t acting like he had any at the time. I understand that some soft tissue injuries can show up later, but what is itemized on the summons is rather extreme. I guess it’s kind-of a generic list, as is the list of my alleged negligent behaviours, but it still is upsetting.
I was absolutely in shock, having never even seen a summons before. Legal matters scare me, and I don’t speak or read legalese, so all I could do was to start shaking and say to the summons server stuff like, “What exactly is this? Am I being sued? Do I need a lawyer?”
He assured me that my car liability insurance would take care of all this, that all I had to do was call the insurance company. He said that they would ask me to bring the writ in to them, and then their lawyers would handle everything. I wouldn’t have to pay anything else, he said, the insurance company would look after the entire matter.
I noticed that my address was wrong in a couple of places on the document, so I said, “That’s not my address. This isn’t me.”
He said, condescendingly, “It’s you. That’s just a typo.”
“It’s wrong in two places,” I persisted. “How can that be me when the address is wrong? What else is wrong in there?”
“Ah, forget it!” he snarled and left.
I shut the door quietly, still trembling. I needed to process this. I needed to make sense of it all. I needed to research – and PG was on my computer!
We had a subdued breakfast. I was still thinking this whole thing through. After we ate, I wanted to clean the kitchen myself, then get on-line to see what I could learn about this situation into which I had just been thrown. And that’s when I spilled the opened bottle of wine on the floor and on the kitchen carpet by the sink. And that’s when I cried – but only a little. I had a kitchen to clean and now a floor to wipe and a carpet to blot.
And fortunately, I also had a glass or two of wine left in the bottle. For later.