And so the Universe’s War Against Scott’s Trip to Portland Begins…
At a moment of maximum carefulness (no irony) I managed to do this to my van:
I was carefully trying to pull under a tree between two other cars in a parking lot. The tree had the stub of a branch left over from incorrect pruning *just* outside my field of vision that I managed to pull into, causing that horrible tortured metal sound so many of us have PTSD about. I was already pretty angry at myself just for doing it, but the addition of the fact that I genuinely could *not* have been more careful than I was already being really amped up my self-hatred.
And then things Got Worse.
As I was standing there trying not to pass out from self-loathing, it started raining Angry Ants. And not just any Ants.
One reason we *prune all the way to the fucking trunk* is to prevent massive vermin infestation in the dead wood. Things like termites. Things like racoons.
And things like ants.
Luckily I was already on my way to pick up Marty for #comedrawatx, where I was able to reduce my fury via the time-honored tradition of Blaming Nature:
All I can do at this point is scrape off the loose paint, prime and seal the damage, and defer Further Repair for Later. It’s possible I’ll be able to pop *some* of the damage from inside if I take the time to remove the entire headliner assembly from inside the van, which has a “not happening before Portland” vibe to it. The crease is also super sharp, and probably won’t fully pop. At is stands, this fucker will be reducing my laminar flow all 2200 miles across the country in a few weeks.