I think I forgot to tell my blog that I cried my way out of a speeding ticket yesterday.

Let me start by saying, my job is less than a mile away from where I live. In a residential area. The only time I venture out onto a main road is if I need food. And, based on my previous post, you know I don't eat very often.

Anyway. There isn't much to say other than yeah, I got pulled over ON MY STREET by a motorcycle cop. He told me he was pulling me over for clocking me at 38 in a 25. Asked for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. As I was reaching for my license, my hands started shaking while trying to shimmy it out of my wallet. "Yes, yes yes!" I'm thinking. "CRY. START CRYING. YOU HEAR ALL THE TIME ABOUT GIRLS WHO CRY TO COPS AND HOW THEY GET OUT OF TICKETS." Then I started thinking about seriously, if I were to get a speeding ticket, how much my insurance would jump. And having a point on my record. And having to deal with traffic school again. Tears. Tears. Tears.

And then I was crying for real. But not just crying... more like wailing. Sobbing. Legitimately sobbing over the idea that I might get a speeding ticket on the street where I live. I handed everything over, and he told me he'd be right back.

I didn't want him to know that I was half faking, so I began crying even louder... so that even though he was a good ten feet behind my car, there was no doubt in the universe that he couldn't hear me. I watched him in my rearview mirror and saw him walk back towards my window.

He bends down, tells me, "All right Karin, I'm going to give you a warning this time. Just be sure you're minding your speed around these hills."

I couldn't believe it. All I did was cry. CRY!

And, like, don't be calling Dr. Laura on me, because it was the most liberating experience I've had all week.