midtown crasher

so there i was after my massage, finally relaxed and unstressed from all the editing and stressing i've been doing for the past two days. i go out to my car and find that someone's HIT MY CAR and left the scene. and thankfully two guys who happened to witness it left me a note with the plate number and make/model of the car that hit mine. my new car. my NEW car. now, mind you, the damage is minimal and it's driveable and all, but still. so i had to call my insurance company, who i by now have on speed dial, and open a claim. then i had to call the police and file a report. and the witnesses don't feel comfortable/can't id the driver of the other car (other than to say he was african american), so it's a long drawn out paperwork process, and when i told mike he was all pissed (at me???) and said, "good luck with that." needless to say, that went over like a ton of bricks. the irony is, my massage therapist and i were just talking about how we thought it was going to be a good year and all that, and i told her about the letter and everything. well, i can only hope all my year crap is happening this week all at once. but mostly, i don't get why all the car incidents in my life have to happen to me. not that i want stuff to happen to mike, but why doesn't this kind of crap ever happen to him? he already calls me the midtown crasher because i've been in three accidents (all not my fault, thankfully) in midtown, and now this. but to be fair, when i lived in my studio his car was hit by my neighbor once, and another time a tree limb fell on his car...in any event, we're enlisting the help of my brother in law, who is a cop in sf, to run the plate and see if we can find out where the hit and run driver lives to take a picture of his messed up car. and maybe find out what insurance he has (if any--probably not). i keep telling myself, it could always be worse. it has been worse, so really this is nothing but an inconvenience.