What: I let the Y(J)eep get down to dangerously low levels of gasoline fumes
When: Today, coming home from an interview
Where: The beloved Commonwealth of Virginia (Lynnhaven to Downtown Norfolk)
Why: Because I was so set on making it home to go the bathroom (I had a full glass of water in my interview), that I spaced picking up $20 in gas for the Yeep (by pick up, I mean having to get out, in my skirt, and kitten heels, and actually pump the gas, getting that scent all over my hands, dreaming of Oregon's ideal "Fill it. Regular." method of gas stations...ahhh, that's the life).
How: I drove straight home yacking on the phone, completely forgetting that the yellow light was on the whole time. Woops. I said I was sorry. Good thing there was enough fumage and the Good Lord pushing behind that wook actually made it to the station without running out.
Lesson learned. Fill up at 3/4. Make dinner to make up for blondeness.
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