Catrina is always breaking my stuff. Don’t get me wrong – I’d still call her my dearest friend, but that doesn’t change the fact that she continually fails to take responsibility for this behaviour. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m never letting her use anything of mine ever again. This might temporarily make for a strained friendship scenario, but to do otherwise is bound to result in a BFF breakup eventually – especially after what happened yesterday.
What happened yesterday, you ask? Oh, let me tell you. It all started when Catrina borrowed my station wagon for the day… you can tell where this is going already, can’t you? It’s the way in which it happened, though, that is story-worthy. Gather ‘round.
See, I told Catrina very clearly to be careful with the back windows – namely, to not touch the buttons that roll them down. They have a tendency to get stuck in the ‘down’ position and leave my car interior exposed to the elements. I’ll get it fixed when I next go for my next log book service in Adelaide, maybe, but for the time being it’s not really a problem, so long as nobody touches the danged buttons.
Can you guess what Catrina goes and does the moment she gets in the car? She rolls down the back windows. I was still standing there next to the car, having just told her not to do that, opening and closing my mouth like a fish because I was so totally gobsmacked. Then she has the gall to start lecturing me on needing a brake repair. She hadn’t even started the car yet, let alone tried the brakes!
She definitely heard me say not to touch the windows, too. I know she did. She had the sheepish/innocent look on her face after she did it, which she always does when she knows she’s just done something she wasn’t supposed to. Of course, the windows still haven’t gone back up.
You’d think we were sisters, the way we argue. I guess that’s why I consider Catrina my bestie even though I want to kill her sometimes.