While I was out running an errand today, I checked in with the love of my life via phone call. That's when she remembered something she'd noticed... someone broke the cover of one of the taillights on our minivan.
Grrrrrr!
I checked out the damage. It wasn't too bad, but of course now the whole thing needs to be replaced. (The taillight or at least the cover... not the minivan.)
The damage most likely occurred while the minivan was parked in our space of our condo complex carport. Some people seem to spend their entire life in that carport, including kids who are out there playing around. It is likely they were throwing something or kicking something and the object hit our minivan in the process.
We don't know for sure, because nobody left a note. Cowards!!!
But this is another incident that is pushing me down the path to the Dark Side of the Force... er, uh, I mean the path to becoming a grumpy old man.
Now, whenever I notice anyone in the carport doing anything but parking, unloading something, or leaving, I'm going to call the management company and complain, because I don't want to risk another accident damaging our minivan again.
I mean, it's not like the kids don't have a place to play. There is a nice, busy boulevard right outside where they can play in traffic, for example. And the Metrolink tracks aren't too far away. Okay, I'm kidding. Kind of. But there is a park nearby, and each condo here does have a backyard-or-patio.
I think we simply need to bring back child labor.
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