I’m obsessed with my TSX.

Just ask bub.

The slightest thing that comes in contact with it makes me nuts. I bend over the shiny surface inspecting what imperfections were born overnight or while I was at my desk.

Well, it’s time for its first checkup. As I pull the beautiful blue mass towards the man who waves me over, he immediately gets his ballpoint pen out to mark up a diagram. Little do I know what he’s actually writing down. So I take my vanilla latte and stroll over to the man whom I had made an appointment with one day earlier. As he verifies that I’ll need a ride to the office, he shows me.

The diagram.

Tiny x’s swarm the page. Not that many, but more than I thought could ever be possible after only 6 months of bliss.

My face got all pouty. WHAT? WHAT? The guy who was in charge of my paperwork stared at me. Even the guy behind me in line had his what-is-WRONG-with-her? face on.

I started to ask how to fix these x’s. I’m told the solution.

I mean, all this energy over a few little dings on my most lovely car.

Say it with me now: get OVER it!


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