Huh. Whaddya know.

I would've sworn the gas cap was attached to the van by a little string.

But when I jauntily tossed the cap aside this morning, and heard it hit the ground and roll under the van, I realized that the idiot string is only on the other car.

So I had to get down on all fours and retrieve the damn thing. (Luckily I could reach it.)

I then realized I'd closed the cover, so I had to go back in and flip the switch to open it, and then I continued with the swiping of cards and protecting of sacred code numbers, all part of the 5 minute pre-show associated with filling the loser cruiser. Only THEN did I see the sign that said 'pump out of order.'

So I take comfort in the knowledge that I gave the attendant at the Shell on Commissioners and Wellington a good laugh.

Maybe it's the same one who witnessed me try to make a left onto Wellington from there one Saturday morning at 7 am. The hitch, of course, is that there is a large median there which makes such left turns impossible. So I found myself having to drive a considerable distance down Wellington on the wrong side of the street before I could make things right. Which is especially nerve-wracking when someone in the car is yelling "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!" (That someone was me.)

Maybe I should stop going to that Shell station.