Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

It turns out that the sound of a marble hitting a tile floor is identical to a rock hitting your windshield.  I found that out this morning on the way to work.  Which makes sense, really, since in both cases it's glass and stone colliding.  And judging by the results I witnessed today, if you hurled that marble at the tile floor at 65 miles per hour, it would not break the tile.  It would chip the marble.

So I got to work and surveyed the damage.  And sure enough, there was a half-inch wide chip in the glass (and a two-inch wide chip in my heart).  But I remembered someone once telling me that you can get those fixed for free through your insurance if you do it before the chip gets too big.  So it was a race against the clock!  I flew down the freeway like an ambulance driver!  I weaved in and out of traffic with reckless abandon!  Never mind the consequences!  My car needed me and I wasn't going to let it down!

No, not really.  I just went on my lunch break to one of those tents at a gas station where a guy in a polo shirt and khakis injects superglue into your winshield.  And he filled the crack in 10 minutes after calling my insurance company.  So it's all good now.  But the really weird thing was sitting in my air-conditioned car, trying to avoid eye contact with the sweaty guy leaning over my windshield repairing the chip.  Because it's about 102 outside today.  And I felt like a complete jerk for sitting comfortably while he baked in the heat.  And I've seen enough movies to know that you don't anger a person who a) serves you for their living, b) works with superglue and razor blades daily, and c) knows your address.  So I bought him a cold water to make sure he didn't murder me for having air conditioning while he worked in the Texas heat.