This morning after leaving Wal-Mart, I was testier than usual. They could use my expertise to run their business more efficiently, but that’s a subject for another post.
I called Mr. Fixit and asked him if he wanted to go to a nearby town with me to purchase the item Wal-Mart didn’t have. My testiness only increased as I ranted about having to drive 20 miles to make my purchase and the heavy traffic only made it worse.
At a red light I pulled up behind a small pickup truck. The driver pulled away and was driving 45 mph in a 55 mph speed zone. Everyone was passing. Since I was the first car behind him I couldn’t move to the other lane because of the congestion. My usual fantasy of blowing crappy drivers off the road began. As I finally took my turn to pass, I pulled my .357 (my hand), pointed at the offending driver, and yelled pow! pow! pow! as I passed. (The driver couldn’t see it because I kept my hand low. I can be discrete when necessary.)
Mr. Fixit said, “You should be glad I don’t have a blog. If I did, I would write about this.”
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1 comment:
Are you related to Dorothy?
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