We're not having good luck with glass, lately.
Last week, after the baby was asleep, and Bad Cohen settled down with a book, I went out to the car to go meet some other mommas from our group for margaritas and nachos. (Yay margaritas!)
It was a bit nippy out, and as I yanked the door open, fighting the creeping frost along the edge where door meets car, I heard a little 'tinkle-tinkle' from the rear windshield. Assuming it was a thin layer of ice that had formed since returning from work a few hours earlier, I went back to brush it off - and found my hand pushing right through into the back of the car.
(***mind was blank with horror for a moment - one of those weird situations like stepping down onto the final step in a staircase, and having your foot slam down on the floor because you've already reached the end***)
The whole rear windshield was spiderwebbed with tiny cracks. I mean, the WHOLE thing. As if the entire glass had decided to commit suicide at once. Or vitricide, I suppose.
Don't worry, margaritas were still had - I drove slowly over the less bumpy route - and the glass was fixed a few days later. We had some fun maneuvers swapping cars with the grandparents (who, understandably, didn't like the idea of tinkle-tinkling glass trickling down on their grandson's head as he sat in the rear carseat).
Well, no big deal, after all. These things happen.
Then, yesterday, I went home mid-day to eat lunch and do a few quick chores, as I often do. Crazy cat (pictured below) decided it was REALLY EXCITING THAT MOM WAS HOME!! and, in addition to her usual constant meowing, started running laps around the house. one of her favorite tag-points in these games of "spaz-cat" is the back of a big chair in the living room that both rocks and swivels, providing her with an extra measure of crazy. Only this time, it kept going. Right through the living room window.
Oy.
I've heard that troubles come in threes. Let's just say, I'm going to be avoiding mirrors for a while.
