These little confessions are true. You can’t make this stuff up.
Cheri and I arrived in Washington D.C., rented a car, did some business, traveled to a few sights, and then following day started out for Williamsburg, Virginia.
I told Cheri how impressed I was with how little gas had been used. When we got on the freeway, all of the sudden the engine stopped and I pulled over to the inside shoulder of the freeway. I looked down at the gas gage and it registered full. Cheri leaned over, looked at it and said it registered empty. . .
Oops . . .
I had been looking at the the oil gauge instead of the gasoline gauge.
A couple of years ago I became emotionally enthralled in weekly tv dramas like Homeland, Ray Donovan, and Gold Rush. Without realizing, I nervously started rubbing my hand through my hair at intense moments in the programs. Cheri warned me I had better stop doing it. Unconsciously I kept it up. After a while, I started looking like an alley cat with pieces of fur missing. One night Cheri turned off the tv and handed me my ipad and said, “go to it.” It solved the problem, after about a month on the iPad with no tv, my hair started growing back in.
My wife thinks I’ve become a bad driver. One day she looked down and saw that I was using my right foot to accelerate and my left foot to brake. She asked why I started doing that? My answer, that’s how race car drivers do it. Mistake. She drives now.
I once heard comedian Bill Burr say that when he’s taking a shower all his mistakes, large and small, come to his mind. He shouts at those moments. Wow, that’s my situation too. Mine mainly revolve around my high school years. Times I felt slighted are especially vexing. I’m known for letting out a curse word. In the beginning, my wife would ask me what was wrong. I told her. She suggested I take shorter showers.