I’m in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere I want to be, actually – it wasn’t exactly nowhere, because I don’t think they have gas stations in nowhere, or snow, or my gloves and an internal debate about if I needed to wear them because of the cold. (I did. I didn’t.)
What it actually was about 350 miles from the place I wanted to be (relatively speaking). I had stopped because I thought I had about 150 miles left in my gas tank (dunno, fuel gauge still doesn’t work), and I wanted to get breakfast anyway. After I unsuccesfully solve the gloves debate, I reach for my wallet.
Not in that pocket, not in that pocket, not in that pocket (hey, that’s where my GBA went!), not in that pocket – uh oh. I did find bills from yesterday’s lunch I’d neglected to put back. It becomes a early morning game of “Is $11 enough to get me to where I need to be and back home?” and while you never actually win that sort of game, the difficultly level is pushed way up when you’re just guessing about how much guess you have
Just as I’m about to leave the car and hand over the cash, I check my pockets one futile last time. Not in my side pocket, not in my other side pocket, not in my inside pocket – hey, what about the front pocket where I like to stick my wallet in a lot? ooooooooooh. duh.
I totally hate myself.