Now that I've been home and actually seen the car, I'm much relieved. The way Deborah described it on the phone, you'd think an entire corner of the car was missing. In reality, though, the lens on the cornering light is broken out, and the light still works. Other than a few small scratches, that was the only harm done.
The lady Deborah hit called back later — there's a call you'd dread returning! — but it was just to make sure that Deborah was OK. You run into the nicest people around here...
So now both sides of the car match — which I find oddly comforting, somehow. Not that I can explain why — perhaps I just like symmetry, even if it's symmetrical damage. Or perhaps it's the same sort of pride Deborah and I take in having completely mismatched, multi-sourced silverware. Yes, we could probably afford to have a nice, matching set, but somehow, the sentimental value (this set was given to us by a co-worker; this set was given to us by the Spites when Deborah first got her apartment here, this was passed on to us by my sister...) far outweighs the oddness of the place settings. Character triumphs over appearances. The world doesn't have to be perfect; in fact, it makes for a better story if it isn't.
Fine: be that way, Mr. Raccoon.
16 hours ago