Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Lately I've decided I might have to add a gas pump to my ever evolving story. Now I really know the story is going to be wild because I'm pretty sure we would never have been offered the choice of being an 'object'. Humor me, though. It's my blahg and I'm in the mood to ramble.
Since self-serve gas stations are one of the many signs of our advancing times, I was actually pumping my own gas into my vehicle when I decided it would have been an interesting choice. I'm always trying to get every drop of gas I can into the tank. Not sure why. I've tried making the dollar amount even and that's happened a time or two. I don't think I've ever been able to get the gallons to come out even. And I know for a fact I've never been able to gauge the drops of fuel so precisely as to get the dollar amount AND the gallons to both be even numbers (not the same numbers - just both even). And it was filling my orange VW Beetle before I got married when the dollar amount was less than the amount of gallons.
So, of course, this particular day, I realized, in a humorous way, of course, I was that nozzle. I get spouting off all these amazing and wonderfully weighty, witty words of wisdom when I'm talking to my kids; trying to get every last drop I can into their tank. I have the best intentions. How dare I be clicked off like that in mid-drop! And why do I continue to get this surprised look on my face when I hear that click and realize I've been shut off? "Is there such a thing as a victimized gas nozzle?" I think to myself as I take my hose and hang myself back up in my spot.