Windshield Woes

So the other day, I walked out of my house after lunch (yes, I am extremely lucky to live within 2 miles of work and get to go home for lunch every day) to go back to work to discover a very large crack in my windshield.  Not a small crack either, maybe 12 inches?  I had no rock strikes, and there was no pit to show the windshield had been struck, just this crack, right in the center, down at the bottom.

Kind of hard to see, but it starts below the wiper on the right and goes up to below the neighbors tree on the left.  Over the last couple of weeks, it grew another 6 inches, so I called the insurance company, who set me up with a well known glass place that was willing to come and replace it in the parking lot at work.  No issues, he gets there, I go and open the truck and head back into work where I can watch his progress from the window.  An hour and a half later, it kind of looks like maybe he's getting done, so I walk back out to check on him.  Nope, not even close.  I ask him to move the trucks into the back of the parking lot, since it's getting close to lunchtime and he would be in the way.  Long-story-short (because I'm really good at long-story-longer), 3 and a half hours from the time he started, he says he's done.  I get there to see broken glass all over the parking lot.  Apparently he had to shatter the windshield to get it out.  And he scratched the hood of the truck.  And he says the left A-pillar (the part that holds the oh-shit handle) needs to be replaced.  But no worry, he gave me free wiper blades and they will pay for the work.  Never mind the time it will take to have it all repaired, nor the fact that the air conditioner spit glass pieces at me this morning.

Moral to the story?  Hell, there is no moral.  I just have shit luck.

Also surprised to have my whole name listed on HorseNation in a story on how to break your phone at the barn.  My comment, that they published?  "Two words.  Boob sweat."  Yep...that's me.  Classy.

Happy Thursday!