Or perhaps more importantly, this, which came as a result of that:
It's all very symmetrical and prismatic and distracting and dangerous and in need of being repaired with money you'd much rather spend on just about anything else.
Anyway, you take the insult, then you add a little injury to round it out. You stomp you scream you pull out your hair.
Or, you sigh, explain to your four year old that yes it would be nice if we could keep the trampoline that just demolished your windshield, but the rednecks down the street apparently recognized it for the junk it was when they left it loose in their yard for the next windstorm to pick up, and it just isn't safe.
The webbing is torn, and you don't feel like walking down the street collecting the rusty springs it left in its wake. Then you self medicate at starbucks. When you turn into the parking lot, a rusty spring rolls around on your roof then falls off.
Then you get to work and blog about it. And that makes you feel a little bit better.