Lifting My Head Up Off The Table

long enough to tell you why it was on the table. But this is whining, so be forewarned.

I went to the bank. No problems.

I went to the grocery store. Tried to buy plain yogurt. There used to be such a thing. There may still be but I couldn't find it amidst the FOUR MILLION containers of yogurt flavored of everything else that isn't yogurt (banana yogurt-blechhh...).

Settled for vanilla yogurt. It's going into a recipe so no harm done, I hope.

I did NOT go through the check-it-and-bag-it-yourself aisle. I will not go into what happens to me when I end up in a fight with that fresh hell.

I did go to buy gas at Kroger since it is right in the Kroger parking lot. (Why on earth can't we pay a couple of cents extra for gas and have someone pump it for us, I would like to know.) The machine wouldn't take my Kroger Plus card, so I had to go get the attendant. He came out of his air-conditioned booth and fixed the problem. Then it wouldn't take my debit card, so I had to go get the attendant out of his air-conditioned booth and he fixed that problem. Then it wouldn't take my code for the debit card, so I had to go get the now-kind-of-annoyed attendant. He wouldn't come out of his air-conditioned booth and made me pay at the booth.

How much gas do you want? he asked.

A full tank, I answered.

Nope, pick an amount. $30? $40?

How the h*ll would I know? I picked $30.

I pumped the gas, and as I put the pump back in its holder, I heard a woman's voice. I turned, said Pardon? and she said:

When you drip gas on the ground, it hurts the environment.

I looked at the ground, didn't see any gas, looked up puzzled, and she explained that I had dripped gas and that if I shook the nozzle into the holder, gas would drip back into the holder instead of on the ground.

I'm a good person. (First of all, I wasn't even tempted to deck her.) I recycle. I drive a low-emissions vehicle. I feel bad that the LYS where I shop throws the cardboard boxes in the trash (but not bad enough to offer to recycle the boxes myself and I'm a good enough person to feel guilty that I don't offer to do so). But baby Jeebus, Mary and Joseph, on my worst, huge-carbon footprint day, I don't even register on the scale of the damage currently continuing and continuing and continuing in the Gulf of Mexico (NOT the ocean, newscasters), so give me a break, please.

On the way home, a rock hit the windshield, but didn't break it, and I arrived home to find a box from Knit Picks.

Things are looking up. I hope. Or I'll go back to trying shots of tequila.