Saturday, July 9, 2011

PTSD



Rick asked me to ride to the gas station with him last night to keep him company while he filled a gas can and topped off his truck for the job on today's schedule. He uses the Mirabito at the end of our road for 3 reasons, 1- it's close, 2- they have a rewards card and he uses a LOT of gas, and 3- there is another one near the off ramp of the highway which is easy for him to pull in and out of when he's hauling the trailer, hence he can still use his rewards card in a second convenient location. It also happens to be the same gas station where I used to pick up the circular ads to stuff in my Sunday papers when I was still delivering papers.

We pulled into the gas station and I was suddenly gripped with panic. Out of nowhere I thought that I had forgotten to pick up my ads. My eyes did a quick sweep of the sidewalk where the driver always dropped them off, I didn't see them and I thought "Uh-oh, what the hell am I going to do?" Rick was jabbering on about something so he didn't notice my temporary insanity until I remembered with a relieved chuckle that I don't deliver the paper anymore. Rick asked what was funny, I just told him he was pretty. He answered that by getting out to pump his gas paying no more attention than he does my normal insanity.

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