I was cutting grass this afternoon when the lawn mower ran out of gas. I actually turned it off just before it sputtered out. I walked back to the garage, grabbed the gas can, walked across the yard and filled up. Then I took the can back to the edge of the house because, frankly, I’d wasted enough time with the back and forth and decided that I really needed a pit crew.
When I got done with the cutting, the putting away of the lawn mower and gas can, I grabbed a Coke (have had a low-grade headache all day and am hoping the caffeine will finally kill it). When I got upstairs, I paused in the better-half’s office and told him that my pit crew was worthless. He asked me what happened and I described how I pulled into the pit and no one was around. I had to run across the track and get my own gas. He laughed and said I should fire that pit crew because they were no damn good.
This, my friends, is the secret to my marriage. Insanity runs deep.
Mowing the grass probably didn’t help with that headache. I mowed today too (both riders are dead so I had to do it the old-fashioned way) and I’ve felt a little off since. Plus those acorns shooting everywhere are deadly! I got hit smack in the chest and thank goodness I had on thoses sexy safety goggles!