I managed to located the air machine that cost $0.75 per three minutes of usage. I hoped that it would be enough time for me to figure out how to work the darned thing. Was valiantly trying to avoid a scene that was a cross between The Keystone Cops and Benny Hill. I am embarrassed to say I am so inept at these things.
Dressed in full diva regalia, I took a deep breath, inserted the coins and uncoiled the hose with a metal contraption on the end that is supposed to help me inflate my tire. Oh good God, I thought. This thing looks complicated. Worse yet, it looks like a sex toy with a trigger. No time to think on that for I had to hurry and get the tire inflated in under three minutes.
I squatted down by the tire and managed to connect the air gun to the tire. I wasn't sure if air was getting in or out. Soon the tire began to rise which tickled me so much I would've danced a jig. An internal warning within me soon sobered the jig into disconnecting the air gun. Didn't want the tire to be overinflated or worse, explode from too much air. That would be just lovely.
If I could avoid the whole car thing, I would. I don't mind driving it, but taking care of it just makes my head spin. I do it anyway. Before I left the station, I filled up with gasoline and then noticed dark grease marks on my manicured fingers, a souvenir from my inflating the tire expedition. Grrr...
The day matched the morning which consisted of inflating my boss' e-mail box with dozens of my approval requests. He was pleased since it meant I was actually working my job instead of the invoice research from Accounts Payable. Still did the research and answered their questions though. How did I become their go-to girl?
IM'ed with Yummy who has the whole week off for vacation. Lucky duck. I still have to wait just under three weeks to have mine with him in England. I am filled with much anticipation, but hopefully not too deflated from work's pressure cooker to enjoy it.
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