" I love the smell of gasoline in the morning," said Mac the gas station owner as he pumped the gas. His quip did not find an amused ear. Mac has been pumping my gas for years.
...."You sure you aren't pumping something else, like apple cider into my tank, Mac?" I asked trying to counter his line.
....He laughed and was quick with a comeback, "Drink a gallon of that stuff and you know what you'll get?" he asked me dead-pan serious.
...."Cider?" I answered.
...."Gas, man!" he replied. "You know, runs!"
....I left the gas station $31.00 short of enough to buy lunch. Mac was okay. He had to pay more for his gas from the distributor, thus he had to charge more at the pump. I didn't begrudge him that, but did he have to be so damned cheerful about it?
My next stop was at an ATM. The bank calls it an Automatic Teller Machine. I call it Access To Money. When I completed my withdrawal, I was only too aware if that last check I'd written for the phone bill cleared before Friday, I would be $40 short of a $5 balance.
....Even as I was driving away, I could have sworn I had heard a voice came from the ATM chiming, "I just love the smell of over-draft charges!"
I stopped at Pete's Charcoal Pit for a burger and some fries. Now, Pete has been serving super-sized fries long before Mickie Dees ever thought of it. His serving is still larger than their's - and he uses steak fries!
I wonder, does every large city have a greasy spoon-type of restaurant named The Charcoal Pit?
....By the way, in case you ever stop at Pete's, you have to specify them to drain or not to drain the grease when you place your order. I got mine drained. The doctor across the street, pushed up his window and yelled, "I just love the sound of arteries clogging!"
....Pete said to me, "Sorry, I over-cooked your burger. Want me to put on another for ya?"
....I shook my head and replied, "That's okay. I just love the smell of charred beef."
We are in our fifth or sixth week, I've lost count, of hot, humid oppressive weather. It's not new math by any means, but it sure equates to money at home and on the road when your A/C is running almost non-stop. Let's see, hot humid weather + a/c running X the amount of gas burnt = the need for more gas. My pocket - dollars for gas = more money for Mac to run his a/c.
....I just love the sight of my fuel gauge dropping!
One of my clients had me go grocery shopping for him today. The list included his usual items: Milk of Magnesia, Polident, Jello in a six-pack, pudding in a four pack, two rolls of toilet paper, a couple of lottery tickets, a newspaper, bananas, a half-gallon of orange juice with calcium and no pulp, a jar of honey, and some unsalted peanuts. "And, oh by the way, could I make a couple of extra stops?" he asked.
....I just love getting in and out of heat to a/c, and vice versa.
...."Sure," I said. "What do you need?"
...."Two whoppers from Burger King," he said.
....That wasn't so bad, I thought. They have a drive-up. I wouldn't have to leave my truck. "What's the other stop," I asked.
...."It's right around the corner. You drive right by it." He was waiting for me to finish writing down the BK order. "I've been craving calamari for several days now. Could you pick up 2 pounds for me? And make sure it's fresh. I don't want frozen."
....On a hot day, I just love the smell of squid in the cab of my truck!
Another client, who was next on my schedule, happens to like the heat. Good for them, bad for me. You see, they do not own or want to own an air conditioner. They don't even have any fans! Like I said, bad for me.
....The perspiration flowed copiously while I was there. I cleaned the surfaces in the kitchen and swept and mopped the floor. I cleaned the bathroom. Finally I vacuumed the carpets. If it wasn't bad enough, I used about a third of a roll of paper towels in attempt to keep my forehead, neck and chest dry. The paper towels were losing. The sweat was winning.
....The paper towels might have staged a rally, but the house brought in a ringer. The family dog, which looks like a poodle-porcupine mix, had number-one'd and number-two'ed in three different places. Was any of it on the tile floor in the bathroom? Was any of it on the linoleum in the kitchen? Was any of it on the newspaper in the spare room? No. No. And no. Was it all on the carpets? A resounding yes!
....I just love the smell of doggie doo on a hot day!
The sweat had been so "generous" over my upper body that my tee-shirt had virtually become see-through. Had I been a woman, that might have been a problem. Had a woman been walking around with a transparent tee-shirt, I think it safe to say that a few heads might have been turned. My chest, however, seen through a wet tee-shirt did not beckon any scouts looking for recruits for The Chipendales.
....Although, I could have sworn one man winked at me. I just love it when a man winks at me --- NOT!!!