Daily Record: The March of a Thousand Blisters

I had a fun morning. And by fun, I mean blister-filled. You see, yesterday, the dog ran out of food. I planned to run to the store and get some, after getting some work done. Except then, mid-work, I fell asleep. This morning, the very persistent nudges of a hungry dog woke me early, so I dressed for work and sallied forth in search of kibble. One problem: the gas tank was also hungry. I knew as soon as I started my car that I was out of gas, but I wasn’t worried, because I live right across the street from a gas station.

I half coasted, half pushed my way to the gas station, only to be told that they had no gas. (!!) Fabulous. For reasons I’ll never understand, the gas station attendant seemed to find this hilarious. (In hindsight, her mirth might have been due to the fact that she didn’t tell me they were out of gas until I’d already purchased the gas can….) Not to be deterred, I immediately set off for the next closest gas station, a mere two miles away.

I left the second gas station with a full can of gas, and jogged back to my car in record time. It only took me a few seconds to empty into my tank the half a can of gas that hadn’t already spilled, and I sped off with no thought in mind but getting to school on time.

I made it. Barely. But it wasn’t until the adrenaline had died down, midway through first period, that the overwhelming smell of gasoline brought me down to a few harsh (and smelly) realities.

1. I must have emptied at least half of the gas can onto myself, because I was like a walking BP today. (Insert oil spill joke here… unless it’s too soon).

2. Speed-walking for four miles in work heels leads to blisters so big they could probably have their own zip code. (Thank heavens for an emergency pair of flip-flops in my bag.)

3. After all that, I forgot to buy dog food.

Face, meet palm.

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