RUNNING ON EMPTY

I had an appointment ... at 7:30 a.m.


Getting to the service appointment for my car is always a real treat. I knew I had to get up extra early to make it there on time and, of course, I woke up at 2:45 a.m. and couldn't go back to sleep until 5 a.m.

By 6 a.m. when I should have been well-rested and raring to go, I was out cold. I didn't wake up until 6:45, which put me 45 minutes behind.

They took my car even though I was late because it's a $500 service (ouch). To top it off, I got the last loaner that looked (and smelled) like it came from Rent a Wreck. Tired and grumpy, I was angry, but I had no right to complain.

As I looked at the stone-faced service mangers, who probably wouldn't heed my gripes anyway, I overheard one tell another woman that her car needed a new engine.

I thought he was going to fall over when she asked, "Is that serious?"

Seriously, that made my day.

FLIPPING MY LID

Mr. Anal can open food boxes with those little tabs on top without ripping them. I've watched him do it ... methodically.

I can't separate the thin pieces of cardboard, sealed with the glue that holds up a man hanging onto a hard hat stuck to an I-beam, without tearing them in half. He's watched me do it ... haphazardly.


Mr. Anal also carefully folds the plastic liners, before closing his perfectly opened boxes, to seal in the freshness.

I crumble the plastic liners and shove them inside my half-closed boxes without a concern for staleness ... which is why I often get the "why raisins get
hard" lecture.

Now I've developed a box-top phobia, and no longer touch those he uses. His raisins stay soft and my Mini Wheats get hard.