apologies.

At many junctures in our lives, we give and receive apologies.  Some are heartfelt and sincere, while others are, to put it delicately, less than that.

Insincere apologies are one of my least favorite things in the world.  They're almost like a slap in the face.  However, that's not what this post is about.

My car, having been purchased by me from my father, is still in his name (not for very much longer.)  A few weeks back, he got a notice in the mail that I had gotten a red-light ticket.  At first, he was almost comedic about it, saying "oop, they gotcha!"  It wasn't funny or long though, when fears of our car insurance going up surfaced (which doesn't really happen with red light tickets, but I digress.)  I paid the $100 fine, send him the receipt, and carried on my merry way.

This morning, as I groggily dragged myself down the stairs to the kitchen to say goodbye to mom and head to work, she's waiting in the kitchen for me, with an envelope.  Fuck.  She looks at me, stone faced, and says, "do you want to tell your father about this, or do you want me to?"  She flashes the envelope at me, making sure that I note the writing on the back, something about five violations can result in something (probably license suspension or something.)

I take the envelope.  Fuck.fuck.fuck.fuck.  I open it.  Fuck.fuck.fuck.  I unfold the contents...

The picture inside is NOT my car!  It's my dad's!  HE'S the one who got the red light ticket this time!  RELIEF!  I tell my mom, and show her.  We're both laughing, pretty heartily, for 7am.  I tell her she owes me a big, fat, huge apology, because she accused and assumed, and I didn't even do anything wrong!

Bottom line, my mom gives the best apologies.  She even offered to legitimately kiss my ass.