GAS, REALLY?

I was so irritated. I had to go get gas because someone parked the car in the driveway and the tank was empty. Not a little empty, like running on fumes. Alot empty. If our driveway wasn't on a slant I wouldn't have made it to the station. Again. Irritated.

So I pull up, jump out, flip the gas switch, unscrew the cap, wave the fastpass, pull out the hose and slam it in the spot where the gas goes into the tank and start pumping. $70.00 later, in Shae's car mind you, I am back in the driver's seat, ready to roll. Not.

The stinkin' car won't start. I try several times, while the attendant watches, and it won't turn over. Can you feel my irritation?

I pull out my cell phone and call Scott. He doesn't answer. I try again. Still no answer. I call Jolene and he's getting a cup of coffee. Grrrr.

Finally, I get to talk to him. "What's wrong?" I explain the situation and tell him to listen as I put my phone up to the dash so he can hear the sound the car is making.

I turn the key and the stupie car roars to life and the attendant gives me a thumbs up. Scott says "Sounds alright to me." I hang up and drive away.

My life as a Roderick.