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We were on our way to the auto-repair shop. My husband led the procession, his car freshly smashed from a minor spin-out. I was following closely behind in our second car. We stopped at a red light. When the light turned green, my husband hesitated for a moment. Because I was living in a separate universe I call “Planet Pregnant,” I didn’t. The front end of my car fused slowly into the rear end of his.
Although no one was hurt and the damage was slight, we ended up putting two cars in the shop that afternoon instead of just one.