consider me slashed

It started yesterday. I drove down a slight hill to find a decent, off road, parking spot at the jogging trail park. As it was bloody gorgeous outside at least 1/3 of the town was there. Well. Not really, but every parking spot was taken, and at least seven cars were lined up in the grass. I thought it would be easy to get down there, but as I shimmied my car down the hill, I heard a resounding thud at the final destination. I shrugged it off and went for my run. When I got back on the road I heard a jah-jah-jah sound, and dumbly I ignored it. It returned this morning on my first trek into town, and it only got louder each time I drove. When I turned up the base of a big hill on the way to my parents' house earlier tonight that car was complaining big time with each inch it traveled. I got home, somehow, miraculously, considering the severity of the sounds, and I shone my phone light on the back right side, by the tire. And would you believe, that puppy was slashed and separating, completely flat. This ijit drove around several times today on a low air/flat tire. My first instinct: "someone slashed me!" And I think I'll stick with that story. It creates a motive and a bit of suspense. Who did it? And why? And then a story forms. But if some stupid nail got stuck in the side or if that fateful hill made its mark, well then that's much different. That seems far more predictable and uneventful.

And in other news the 'ol hormones have gifted me with a pimple. It's on my chin, and that dude is painful. I caught up with another photographer for coffee a bit earlier, and I somehow swung my arm against my chin, and I must have winced at least a little. I don't know if it's a female thing, to get pimples well into my 20s, or if it's a "Saira, you are so clearly stressed and you know it" thing.

(I think I will start adding a PS section with a random thought of the moment to spice up the posts.)

Make it BIG,
Saira

PS: I avoid the news at all costs. If it's important I'll hear about it another way.