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Don’t Beat Yourself Up
Yesterday was proof “adulting” never ends. Absentmindedly, I backed out of my driveway and hit the gas meter. My attention jerked back to the present as I heard the crunch of my fender, followed by a loud hiss of gas spewing into the neighborhood. Opening the car door, I choked on the fumes in the air. What a dope. Now the neighborhood’s going to explode! I rushed into the house, my heart pounding. Who do I call? Where’s the number for the gas company? Help me, Jesus! I texted my husband. Roamed the house. Left a voice message. No response. He was in a meeting so could offer no assistance.…