Why is it so hard to start this post? There is no perfect sentence to begin this tale. So here goes:
This morning was no exception. I grab my remaining weekly stipend...5 singles and 4 quarters from the "Vacation Fund" jar and head down to a tasty breakfast made by my yummy hubby. He's awesome and cares for me so deeply I long to make him proud. I long to be self sufficient. I will not ask him for gas money.
Breakfast is yummy in my tummy...Toasted Italian bread, thick slice of juicy tomato, cheese, thick cut turkey bacon. Mmmm. This might be the best meal I'll have until I come back home. I pack a bag of chips. It's a salt thing. Then I down some chocolate soy milk hoping to curb my coffee craving and wonder out loud how much gas can $6 buy. "About 2 gallons", says the hubby. Cool. I'm off.
I already know I should have taken that frozen thing out of the freezer. Truthfully I don't buy them for myself. Except for the Stouffer's Mac n Chesse. It's a cheese thing. They're usually reserved as emergency rations for the hubby & the Fidget. Big mistake. Huge. Now I'm at a common crossroad. Do I buy lunch or get gas? No sooner than I pose this question, the stupid gas light comes on. There will be no coasting on fumes. My commute won't allow it.
I pull into the gas station and debate using my trusty debit card. I know Bank O' Sheisty will only authorize a buck as I fill 'er up but I just won an epic battle with them and don't want to press my luck. I also just read The Broke Diaries so I'm feeling empowered by my $6. Shiiiiiiiid I got $6 y'all...and what!!!!
I walk in the store. Lawd...can't remember the last time I paid cash for gas or the last time I actually said, "Can I get 6 on 11 please?"
"You want $6 dollars on pump 11 dear?" Grandma asks staring out to my car...twice!! I almost tell her that I'm topping off en route to summer in the Hamptons. But I'm clearly not and she knows it. Bytch just gimme my gas!
"Yes, please." The words follow me to the car. I start pumping gas and conditioning sets in. I get comfortable against the car with the pump handle on lock as if I'll be here a while. I do a quick inventory...oatmeal cream pie in desk...bag of...CLICK. The pump crawls to a stop. $5.97, $5.98, $5.99...this is so sad.
I ride off into the sunrise with my less than quarter tank of gas. Today's gonna be a hungry one peops. Damn I should have taken that frozen thing.
An hour into work I hear the California stroll of my work hubby. Yes, I have a work hubby. He first swooned me with his quick overhaul of an overly complicated process. He's efficient y'all. Then he glamored me with his sweets. Chocolate cake, strawberry cake, cheese cake, ice cream. Delish.We swap "my kid is crazier than yours" stories. He even brings homemade liquor aka "daddy water" for my yummy hubby. He's awesome.
He lands this brick heavy baked confection on my desk and walks out to finish his call. It's huge and smells of butter, brown sugar, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon. It tickles my fancy and I name it Lunch!
He comes back and I quip about how he must have known I left my lunch home. He shrugs. We talk food. It's an occupational habit. I say I'm tired of all the food in the area. He suggests a local Chinese spot which I'm sure would challenge my Baltimore palate. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out cash. I assume he's organizing his dead presidents. Then he rolls up a couple bills and hands them to me; offers it up to being too busy to have lunch.
Of course I hand it back. He gives me the "you better take this" look and I delete my pride. I accept the cash and stash it in my desk drawer. Conversation ends. He leaves my building for his building.
I open the drawer thankful for people like my work hubby, people who look out for me without even knowing it. Then I just start smiling.
It's exactly $6.
God I love how you work!