This kind of thing only happens to me, 468th edition

By my calculation, I've had 11 prior posts dealing with deer. (From, the "oops, I hit a deer" post to the "what's he got on his hands" post to the yep, that's our very own deer head in that picture post to the post where I try to make use sound LESS redneck but actually do the opposite, deer are everywhere. . .) Thus, I'm in the dangerous position of labelling myself a redneck once and forever by writing this post. Stay focused, however, and let's lay blame where it's truly due: Bethany. It's all her fault. In THIS post from yesterday, she asked readers to detail what grosses them out. It just so happened that I was having one of THOSE days. . .

I walked in the door at work to our new therapist and a patient asking me if I noticed the dead deer in the parking lot. Yep. You read that right. I looked out the window, and sure enough, there was a dead deer that had presumably been hit by a car and collapsed, blocking the main (but obviously not the one that I use) exit. Knowing that most of our patients are elderly and of the questionable driver persuasion, I knew Dead Bambi had to be moved. . .and quickly.

The Boss Lady, who gets paid to deal with such nonsense, was at a meeting. Not knowing exactly who to call to come pick up Dead Bambi, I asked the new therapist (henceforth known as New Girl) to help me move Dead Bambi. We donned latex gloves and proceeded to the parking lot. Since I was pretty sure New Girl had not dealt with dragging dead deer thus far in her professional (or private) life, I wasn't sure how she'd handle it. I took the front legs, assuming it was the heaviest end, she took the back legs, and we heaved Dead Bambi into the ditch.

Later, I watched a 3 year-old scratch poop off his unwiped bottom and had another kiddo with a perpetual runny nose wipe said nose across my shirt from shoulder to shoulder. I figure those things are par for the course when you're a speech-language pathologist (or in any career dealing with healthcare and/or children, actually); however, no one ever told use we'd drag dead deer off the parking lot when I went to graduate school. . .As for New Girl, she handled Dead Bambi like she'd been dragging deer all her life. In fact, we're considering partnering for the annual Dead Deer Dragging Days held in Redneckville every deer season. . .We might even give up our amateur status to go pro. . .

Deer, Deer, Deer, Deer, Deer, Deer

I hit a deer. Relax. We're ok, and it's actually been several weeks since it happened. We were driving home at dusk one night. I saw a deer and began stopping. Before I could get stopped, another deer ran in front of my car. I had time to say deer about 6 times before we hit it. I really did not hit it that hard, but it hit square on my bumper/grill area and bounced back on the road. I pulled over and jumped out. My grill (2 pieces), bumper and headlight housing were broken. About that time, the deer came to, jumped up, and ran off.

It was all very surreal, especially when it came to my kids. Kyler (the mighty hunter) was crying because he was afraid the deer would die a long, slow, painful death from his internal injuries. Kady on the other hand, had her hand shaped like a gun and was "shooting" pretend deer. I think my daughter might be practicing to be a poacher. . .

PS The damage came to $2,600.00. My insurance company hates me. My body shop loves me.

PPS The headlight on my car costs way more than the bumper or grill. Does anyone else find that odd--especially considering the headlight itself wasn't broken??