It’s me. The end.

It’s a sad day in America when one gets excited about gas that is $3.55 a gallon.  It’s even more sad when one drives 10 miles out of the way to get it for $3.52.

I mean, this is not a bargain by any means.  It still costs the price of a small island just to fill up  my tank.  But I have to admit … anytime the gas prices drop a penny, I gets me a tickle in the belly and a song in my step.  And then I make Autumn high-five me in the car.

She no likeee that part one bit.  As evident by stink eye and disgruntled noise from throat.  Cuz I guess when you are almost 15 years old, a high-five from your mom is just like a big hug in front of all your friends.  Very very very not allowed.

Hmmphf.

But back to gas.  I’m not the only one who gets excited.  Last night (after I fill up my tank full of delicious $3.52 gas), Brad calls me and tells me the gas station across town messed up and was selling gas for $2.58.

Erlack!

The universe, ONCE AGAIN, has done tipped sideways.  In fact, it’s probably hurling uncontrollably through outer space as we speak.  Cuz I know for certain if things were right with this world, Jesus would have spared me that extra $18 I spent on MY gas.  Cuz He know I have better things to do with my money.

Like lattes.  Or casino-ing.

Poo.

Brad has a little laugh at my expense, and I suppress very mightily the urge to poke him up the backside.  Cuz I know for sure he no likeee THAT.

So now Brad is speeding his way across town to claim his share of the gold, calling all his friends and family in the process.  And then of course, he hauls the gigantic Suburban up there next.  Might as well take advantage of the situation as much as possible.

Which brings me to this point:  When was even $2.58 a good price for gas?  I mean, that’s still over $2 a gallon, which was the number that brought us into this mess in the first place.  I suppose we are just slaves to our environment … we adjust when we have to, then get excited when things take a turn for the better, even if it’s not really all that better in theory.

Which then brings me to this additional point:

DAMMMMMMMMIT!  Eighteen dollars down the effing hole.  And my week of coconut lattes down with it.  Blah.  I swear, next time some gas station decides to have a pricing accident, I dadgum better be first in line.  Served special by cute pump boy (Brad) who delivers free cappucino, (winning) lottery ticket, and a nice squeegee of the windshield.

Cuz if we gonna to do this, we gonna do it right.