I hate the mailbox.
Yesterday, we received a letter from the Illinois Department of Transportation. I don't understand it, but what I think it says is that we didn't have insurance when Brian had that accident near Joliet.
If that's true, we owe someone $10K.
I wanted to call you as soon as I got it. But I didn't. I wanted to make sure when I talked to you about it I was calm.
The worst part wasn't the $10K. The worst part was I thought we had been having really good, constructive conversation over the past couple of days and I knew this was going to upset the apple cart again.
Part of me tried to just figure out how to pay it so I didn't have to bring it up. But that wouldn't be honest and it wouldn't be fair to either one of us.
I want you to know that I don't like having to tell you this stuff. I DO know how it affects you. My first instinct is to try and protect you from it ... still.
There was a time, when we were in the thick of it, that my first reaction was anger. And I'd call you immediately and I'd scream at you.
I have consciously tried to stop doing that.
I really, really don't want this to derail the little bit of progress we've made in the past couple of days.
We will figure it out. Like we used to say, together we can move mountains.
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