Call Me Maybe?

Last week I did something dumb. It went like this.

It had been a long day, an even longer week, and I was exhausted on all counts. By about 5pm, I was starting to lose my noodle and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I had just picked up Dallin from scouts and decided that in order to give myself a little energy to make it through the rest of the lackluster night, I would pump up some music and blast my brain silly.

And that's just what I did. I found the teeniest teeny bopper song I could, cranked it full on, and started thumping down the street. Call Me Maybe was sounding 'round the neighborhood. By the time I got into the driveway, the kids were jamming with me so I pulled into the garage, rolled down the windows, and let them hang out the sun roof. I figured I'd spare the neighbors a little noise by shutting the garage door behind me. It was our private little dance party with me as dj …"letting your hair down" at its finest. 

Next thing I knew, we were moving. After a quick jolt, I turned around to see what had happened. Somehow the gear shift slipped out of park, we rolled back and slammed right into the garage door. Everyone screamed and suddenly the dance party was over. Boy, did I feel silly. Slightly embarassed. A bit ridiculous. All of that. But very glad that nothing too scary happened.

It was quiet as we all sheepishly walked inside the house. Then a smile spread across my face as I laughed and thought to myself, Hey Mr. Garage Door Repairman, Call Me Maybe?