I love it when Harriet tucks her nose under her “wing.” She makes such a compact bundle. I would’ve wrapped her up in her binkey, because she was obviously a little chilled, but she was lying on it and I didn’t want to disturb her.
So, I stopped on the way home to get gas (only US$2.25/gallon!), and had an odd encounter. First, I nearly got creamed by some asstrumpet in a Camaro who cut through the Bigfoot lot to avoid the traffic waiting in line to turn onto the main road. Can we say rude and illegal? Yep, I thought we could.
Then, when I tried to use my card at the pump, I got a message that blinked “Panic Code 013.” WTF?! I went inside to inform the young man at the counter that his, um, equipment was taking A Tone with me. His response? “I wonder just how panicked we should be?” Smartass! I ended up pulling around to another pump, which worked fine. As I was leaving, I saw that another car had pulled up to the Cranky Pump and that there was an enormous pool of gas all over the pavement. Yikes! I didn’t hear any explosions as I drove off, so I assume all’s well that ends well.
red paper boat 