You had a baby three days ago. Said baby has slept for maybe five minutes since the minute she entered the world. I mean, roughly. Said baby is also kind of mean. I mean, I'm just being honest here.
It is December. In Chicago. There are 42 feet of snow on the ground, and it is colder than the summit of Mt. Everest (again, I mean, roughly).
You and your husband are taking your mean little baby to her first pediatrician visit. You walk your bleary-eyed, miserable self across the frozen tundra of the parking lot, when you encounter THIS:
It may not look like much, but the parking lot is dark (because there's covered parking there, not that you found a spot in that area, and anyway, the sun shines for all of three seconds each day in December, so it's dark to begin with), you can't really see it. And anyway, your feet are barely leaving the ground, because you're so tired you could vomit.
What will happen is, you'll catch your toe on the pure evil of that sewer cap, and you will stumble forward. Lunging. HARD.
Did I mention you had a baby three days earlier? Think of the stress that lunging puts on, well, your body, shall we say.
Oh. And by the way? All of this happens on your birthday.
Every single time I take Gracie back to the pediatrician, I stomp up and down on that sewer cap and tell it to go to hell. And if you know me at all, you know I'm not kidding.