Third Time’s A

This is what happens when I venture out in public:

I went to gas up my mother’s minivan this evening.  Drove up to the pump, got out, walked down the side, and promptly noticed that the gas tank wasn’t there. It was on the other side of the van.

Embarrassed, I quickly got back in and pulled around to another pump.  Got out, walked down the side of the van, and realized that I had done the exact same thing again.

By this time absolutely certain that the cashier was cracking her gum and smirking at my struggle, I ducked my head and tried for a third time to park on the correct side.

You know what they say about the third time.

On the drive home, I sang “Sweet Caroline” loudly.  I drove past my high school and smiled because I don’t miss it there one bit.  The line of headlights behind me alerted me to the fact that I was going ten miles per hour below the speed limit.  I accidentally re-smashed a road-killed possum.  And then I arrived home, where my parents were waiting.

Fall Break is a wondrous thing.

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