DH jumped into our car today and asked, "What is it with you and petrol stations?"
Um, are they those places I tend to avoid because it costs a small fortune to pump extremely volatile fumes into the dark chambers of my car? It's even worse than shopping because I don't even get to see what I'm paying for unless watching a needle move on the gauge is the reward for having just forked over the kids' inheritance.
And while I'm avoiding petrol stations, I tend to also ignore the fuel gauge - until after the warning lights have passed the flickering stage and are now on full time. (You can imagine how thrilled my husband is about this.)
So today I'm grateful that DH filled up my car with petrol today without telling me off. However I did end up paying for it later. We went to Mitre10 (hardware shop) and the time we spent there I could have put to good use cleaning my house, painting my nails, and cooking a three-course dinner. Any longer and I probably could have added editing a book to that list. I mean, we were a long time. A very long time. Those places should consider putting seats at the end of every aisle or a power walking circuit around the perimeter of the shop - just for all the female partners who spend a long time waiting.
It's not as if I was the only one. I smiled at another lady waiting while her man looked at nuts and bolts and things and she looked at me as if I was weird. Well, by that time, I probably did look rather spaced out and desperate. After all, we had been there a long time.
But at least I have fuel in my car for another three to four weeks. Although DH wants me to try to keep it half filled all the time. Really? Me?