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On Sunday, during the thick of the wedding mayhem and madness mere hours before the ceremony, my husband called me and told me that he’d forgotten something in our apartment. I slipped out of my in-laws’ house, planning to make a quick trip back to me and my husband’s home for the missing items. I had a million things running through my head as I craned my neck and tried to maneuver around the half a dozen other family vehicles, concentrating especially on backing safely past the family van that was to transport the bride to the hall.

It was right about then that I heard a squeaky-screeching noise from the other side of my car. I whipped my head in the other direction just in time to see that I was scraping the side of my car along the bumper of a little silver car.

A silver car.

My sister-in-law – the bride! – has a silver car.

I’d just nicked the back of the bride’s car. On her wedding day.

I think I stopped breathing for a second. I knew that I was most definitely going to win worst sister-in-law of the day award with this one. I got out of the car and examined the scratch. It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely noticeable. I called my husband in a panic. We decided to wait until after the festivities to break the news to her, after he could take a look at it to see how bad it was.

Somehow, I managed to put it out of my mind for most of the rest of the day, until after dark, after we’d packed the newlyweds’ vehicles for the trip home to North Carolina and my hubby and I were just ready to head home. I reminded him of my scrape and he grabbed his flashlight. We examined her car, from rear door to bumper.

Not a scratch.

“I know I at least nicked it!” I told him in bewilderment.

He looked at me. “Are you sure you didn’t hit my car?”

I stared at him. That’s right…my husband owns a little silver car, too. “Um. Maybe.”

Sure enough. There was a scratch matching the height of my car’s mirror on rear side of his car and a corresponding scrape on his bumper to match the one on my door. I don’t think either of us were ever so happy to see damage on his car in our lives. We were just so happy to find out that I hadn’t, after all, marred his little sister’s car on the day of her wedding celebration. The reality was so much better than what we’d thought had happened originally.

And that’s why I found myself saying, “Oh THANK GOD!” upon learning that I’d scratched my husband’s car. That’s how you make bad news seem not so bad after all. Damaging hubby’s car versus damaging the bride’s car? Most definitely the best news I’d gotten during the whole incident!

(Nevertheless, I do feel like a klutz for what I did. And am very grateful for an understanding hubby who doesn’t get angry at me for adding another scratch to his car!)