Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Twelve Dollars

I am feeling scattered and out of sorts today so please don’t expect this post to be anywhere near coherent. In fact, just go ahead and plan on it being the polar opposite of coherent and you won’t be disappointed.

Where to begin?

Oh, I know! This morning, the Service Engine Soon light came on in my car, alerting me to a problem. It did the same thing a few years ago and, being a conscientious car-owner, I read my owner’s manual and determined that the light indicated that there was a problem with the pressure in the gas tank, most likely due to the gas cap being unscrewed. However, after unscrewing and re-screwing the cap a multitude of times without results, Hugh and I determined that the sensor was faulty so, we had it replaced.

I hadn’t had a problem since. You know, until this morning.
Anyway, to make a long story short, ha! Too late! I pulled to the side of the road, opened the gas hatch and reached in to tighten the cap which is when I discovered…. that some jackass had stolen my gas cap.

Who does that?

If you just thought to yourself; “Someone who needed a gas cap,”, you are dead to me. Dead. Because, people, I have heard enough of that today.

Someone who needed one, my ass. They cost twelve dollars at the auto parts store, people. Twelve. Dollars. This means that the jackass who stole mine has sold his immortal soul for twelve dollars.

And, it probably wasn’t worth half that.

Anyway, I was, and still am, mad about this. Mad!

Which I may have mentioned later, during a mini-rant at my women’s club meeting.
I may have cussed, even. In the most ladylike fashion immaginable, of course.

Speaking of which (the club, not the cussing. I told you this was going to be all over the place.), the President-Elect of the club pulled me aside after the meeting and asked me if I would consider running for the office of First Vice President in the upcoming election. If I were to say yes, it would mean that I would become President of the club in 2009, since that is how the hierarchy of the club works.

I laughed at her. She persisted. I reminded her how much I had thoroughly hated the office of Treasurer and wondered at just how sucky a higher office would be and, to her credit, she replied honestly by saying “Oh, it’s completely awful but still, what an honor!”

I was flattered, because I am not totally without vanity.

I then turned her down because my vanity prevents me from engaging in stupidity (75% of the time).

“Well, would you consider it if I offered to buy you a new gas cap?”

Um, no. My immortal soul is worth way more than twelve bucks.

Also, I smell desperation, sister. Perhaps that twelve dollars could be put to a better use, say; air freshener?


1 comment:

  1. 2009?!? That's way too far in advance to plan! I don't know how you do what you do do. (ha ha, I wrote do do)