Got up this morning and went off to the post office, where I not only got my box from
angstchic (yay! I finally got to watch the finale! Thanks, chickie!) but learned where my mailbox is. I then proceeded to have a very happy and productive morning, so when Craig and I left at lunch time to go and exchange the rental car at the airport, I was flying pretty high.Craig had decided that the Lincoln Towncar was just *not* going to work and since today marked 1 week, he made arrangements to turn it in and upgrade to the minivan. No big deal, right? We're out for an hour, and then I drop him off back at work, and then I'm back home again to watch my Angel tape.
An hour later when I'm done watching the tape, I realize I can smell something. I sniff again. For some inexplicable reason, it smells remarkably like gasoline. So, I go down to the garage door, open it up, and get hit in the face with this overwhelming stench and fumes of gas. Sure enough, after opening the garage and peering underneath the minivan, there is a growing puddle of something fluid. Yep, you guessed it. Gasoline.
Grand total of having our 3rd car from Hertz: 2 hours.
So now we're waiting for a 4th car to be delivered to us. And I'm completely funky because I was completely unspoiled for the finale and what happened devastated me as much as it thrilled me for being absolutely excellent television. Thank god angstchic sent chocolate and cookies in her box.
