What are the odds?

We interrupt the Vegas recap for a moment from Monday.

Driving to work on Monday, I realized I was still pretty tired from Vegas.  It dawned on me that I was rather more tired than I thought I was, if that makes any sense.  I mean, I was really tired.  Perhaps, I should not be operating heavy machinery.  Like, say, my car.

We don't have assigned parking spots -- we have an assigned floor in the parking structure.  So I drive up to our floor, circle round to an open spot, and pull in.

And hear a thud.  And notice the car to my right shaking.

Dammit. 

I finish parking and get out to see if I did, in fact, hit the car next to me.

There's a scratch on the side of the car.  It is at about the same height as my bumper.  Which has a scratch on it.

Now, under normal circumstances, you might think that this would lead me to the conclusion that I did, in fact, hit the car next to me while pulling into the spot.

It does not.

Why does it not?

Because I hit this exact same car about a year ago, and I couldn't tell whether this was a new scratch or the same one.

I left a note.  This morning, I emailed saying, "Please tell me I didn't hit your car again."

I did.

(She's taking it remarkably well.)