Let this officially be known as The Week of Things Laura Would Rather Avoid.
I kinda crashed my car a little bit. It still runs, but it is dented and scraped because of a thing.
And so I called the insurance people, and they gave me a claim number, and now I have to find a freaking body shop that will repair the dents and scrapes and bill my insurance company, because the dent-y-ness has to be fixed.
But I also have to call my actual insurance agent, because he is in charge of all of the things, and unfortunately, all I have is a claim number but hardly any other information. So yeah.
Not only that, I have to go to various businesses and interrogate their managers because of reasons, and I hate doing things like that. I am almost done. But STILL. Nothing is worth this kind of sales-person-y thing. I do not work in sales for THIS REASON.
Can't I just curl up in the fetal position and sleep? I did not sleep last night. I miss sleep. I like sleep. Sleep good.
But no. I have too much stress to sleep, because I have so much stuff that I am dreading.
Can I have a vacation? Please?
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