I enjoy my car. On Wednesday, I noticed my fuel light was on after I dropped the kids off at daycare. No biggie. I can make it to work, and I did. My plan was to call Sarah and have her bring some money or something to me. It's a bit of a pain for her to pack up the kids and drive in just to give me money, but she stood up at the alter and said "I do". Sucker.
Anyway, guess what I forgot to do. Around 5:30, I decided to head on home. Turned on the car, and my friend the fuel light was there to greet me. He brought his buddy, Maint Req'd, but I'll be rid of him soon enough. In an amazing show of mind over matter, I willed my car to have phenomenal fuel efficiency and made it all the way home. Twenty-two miles each way on a low fuel light in rush hour traffic just plain flat isn't bad.
To make sure I could make it out of my driveway and to the gas station, I decided to use what was in my gas can. I was originally going to write "what was in my can", but if I could power cars with what was in my can, I'd be the founder and CEO of AssaCo. Anyway, I went to pour the gas in my tank, and instead it went all over my pants and shoes. "This", I thought to myself, "is not normal." The flange that connects the spout to the can had a huge crack in it, making a huge leak. After many months of supressing my inner Redneck, I had to dig deep and let him out to help me solve the problem. The pure genius that is "knife + empty plastic pop bottle = funnel" could only come from him. Forgive me, Cletus of my subconcious. I shall never forget you again.
Because my shoes now reek of gas and have no hope of ever being normal again, I've resorted to wearing my other pair of shoes, which are my "nice" shoes. To be honest, I do have one other pair, but those are my "really nice" shoes, and I don't wear them unless I think it's important. Or is it "until I can find them"? Hmmm. Anyway, I hate my nice shoes because they're very uncomfortable and they look strange with my jeans and collared shirt ensamble that makes me so dashing and irresistable. I need to get some new "regular" shoes, but I'm putting a quarter in "the jar" every time I use quotes in annoying "places", so I'm about broke.
And now I'll end with my typical useless self plug: group comics, register an account, excited dessert, thanks for visiting, see ya 'round.
