Friday, March 11, 2011

It's a test. It HAS to be a test.

If EVER there was a time to break my Lenten vow of not cussing, it would be now.  Why, you ask?  I'll tell you.

For the first time in my entire life, I ran out of gas.  Actually, *I* didn't run out of gas, my car did.  But I was behind the wheel.  And I blame TheManTheMyth.  And he will SO hear about it when he gets home.

He took my car last night to attend a meeting 27 miles away.  Which would make it 54 miles round trip.  When he left, I told him that I only had maybe 1/8 of a tank of gas which may or may not be enough to get him there and back and leave enough for me to take Thing 2 to school AND get home because my car gets really crappy mileage.  So you'd think he would, I don't know, put gas in the car.

He didn't.

I get in the car this morning to take Thing 2 to school and the gas light is on.  When the gas light comes on, I have about 3 gallons left so no big deal.  But I'm a-guessing that ol' gas light came on while TMTM was driving TO his meeting because the needle was BELOW the line. 

Gee, thanks for leaving me high and dry, honey.  

So I figure I'll drop off Thing 2 and hope I make it to the nearest gas station.  Which I do.  Make it to the nearest gas station.  Only to realize as I shut off my car at the pump that I HAD FORGOTTEN MY WALLET.

Deep breath.  Deep breath.

I did NOT cuss.  Hand to God, I did not cuss.  It took a tremendous amount of effort but I did. Not. Cuss.

I get back in my car and turn the key and...Nothing.

Deep breath.

Turn the key again and...nothing.

I take another deep breath and count to three.

And try one more time.

This time, my car starts and I head toward home, wondering if I will make it or if Gracie Lou and I will have a long walk ahead of us.

My car is gasping and of COURSE I hit every. single. light.

And still, I was not cussing.

I turn the corner at my house and and sputter to a stop.  In front of my driveway.  YES!  I made it home!  

I figured I would grab the little red 1 gallon gas can and walk up to the gas station 1/4 mile away.  Except I discovered we don't have a little red gas can.  We have 10 gas cans here but they're all 5 gallon size and they're for filling up race bikes.

Fine.  I'll just put one in the back of the Red Rocket and drive the Rocket to the gas station and put a gallon of gas in the big can.

I get in the Rocket and turn the key.  And make a grim discovery.

The Red Rocket is out. of. gas.

I'm now 100% positive that God is testing me.  That he WANTS me to break my vow of not cussing.

Well guess what, God?  I haven't cussed!  Ha!


Never mind that I'm stranded.




  1. Good Lord above! That is some serious testing going on at your place. Have you tried any of the cussing alternative words I gave you the other day? You might want to practice with a couple of them so that it will come more naturally to you.


  2. "Son of a biscuit!" and "Fudgsicles!" were both being used A LOT this morning. And many, many deep cleansing breaths.

    The pseudo-swear words felt much better than the breathing.

  3. I think TMTM is severely testing you. Hang in there, dammit.