Last night was one of those days.
Before Zac's there was a prison planning meeting so I had to rush afterwards - and Betty didn't have any petrol.
The only petrol station selling 'red' petrol is the other side of town so that means calling in to the one en route, filling up with 'green' petrol and using the additive. So far so good.
I reach into Betty, pull out the bottle of additive and ... it's empty. Try again, this time coming up with the full bottle. (Why do I keep an empty bottle in the car?) Peer at instructions. Why do they have to be so small? Rummage in handbag for glasses case. Take out glasses and put on. A car has pulled up behind me and is waiting. It's getting dark. Even with glasses have to screw up eyes to decipher. Finally decide how much I need. Battle to take off lid. It's childproof. Have to put it on the floor before I can win battle. Study measurements on bottle. Hold it this way, then that. Can hear man in car behind drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Hold bottle up to light. For goodness sake, have manufacturers no idea about the sort of people who drive old cars that need additive? They tend to be fairly decrepit themselves. Pour in amount. Hope it is right.
Take off glasses, push back in case in bag. Lock petrol cap. Key gets stuck. Fear that driver waiting is going to come and do it for me soon. Tell myself I shouldn't be pressurised. Ignore myself.
Additive has spilled over my hands but don't want to take even longer by going to wash them so just pay and drive off as speedily as possible.
Get to Zac's. They've started bible study. I open bible, get out glasses. Discover glasses are armless. Sit back and breathe deeply.
This morning take photo of self in lopsided glasses. Blinded by flash. Try to download photo; batteries on camera have gone. Replace with a variety of others. All flat.
Could be the longest day.
2 comments:
I do sympathise - I have days like that too! Yes, why can't they print instructions in bigger type?
I can't be certain or anything, but I think we may have been separated at birth. I'm a totally American version of you, with a Gin Fizz in my hand instead of a bible, and a pair of glasses that looses the hinge screw DAILY...and instead of going and buying a two dollar repair kit, I scurry after the screw, squit helplessly as I try to reinsert it, and stab myself at least twice as I try to screw it in with my broken-tip pocket knife.
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