Gas Man

Last night my sweet husband stopped to fill my car up wth gas before we went to dinner. I HATE getting gas.  I think its the lazy in me.  Or the fact that I love the smell of gasoline and I think that's weird. I hate it even more now that I have Cooper. I don't like leaving him in the car screaming or crying or sleeping or.... ever really. So every once in a while, when he thinks of it, Bobby fills up the tank. My very TALL husband was standing outside pumping gas, with my iPhone in one hand downloading some video and probably checking his email on his iPhone in the other hand.  He thinks he can multi-task.  He wanted to show me the video so he DUCKED UNDER the pump hose. He thought it would easier than stepping over. You know, since he is closer to the ground than the dangling hose (sarcasm). How he thought that, we are still not sure. Anyway, he caught the pump handle with his big head and pulled it right out of the tank! The nozzle knocked him in the head, spewing gas everywhere! In his hair, his clothes, his shoes, the car (thank God the windows were rolled up) and MY phone!!! He kind of just stood there as his loving and supportive wife tried to regain her breathe from her hysterical laughing. He is normally very coordinated.  I swear.  I'm starting to worry though, a few weekendsago he fell in a ditch....but back to today.

Poor guy was then forced to disrobe by said loving wife because we had to save the carseats from permanent gasoline smell. He was like really? And I was like yes. And disrobe he did. So there we were, cruisin the burbs with a half naked man, stinky phone, sleeping baby, laughing wife and a slightly filled gas tank. 

Life is short.  Laugh out loud.  Make your own memories.