I'm not good at this

Blogging after a certain time of day, I mean. It's like my brain's decided that there's a certain window of time for pointlessness, and once we're past that it's back to being all serious, all the time.

Is anybody buying that last bit? If so, I have a few square kilometres of tundra I could sell you that would be perfect for your pet caribou. What's that? Well of course I could sell you the caribou as well...

Um. Sorry. Sometimes you have to let the voices come out and play, you know.

I was serious about blogging in the evening being a problem, however.

So.

I did say I'd try to post later, though, didn't I?

Silly of me to say that. Ok, here goes...







Geez. This is like the other day when I was trying so hard to... oh. Right. I wasn't going to talk about all of that stuff. Trust me, you'd thank me if you knew.

Well, then...



Oh, wait. I've got something. It's a brief something, but it'll do. I sort of lucked out at the gas pump accidentally the other day. I went to my usual full serve place (yes, full serve. I do full serve. And why? Wheat's wife says that pumping gas is a boy job (relax -- she's mostly kidding, I think) but in my case I'm kind of afraid of spilling gas on myself and having to smell like that for the rest of the day) which is usually the first one to put its prices up, sighed at the ridiculous amount I was about to pay for something I don't really even want anyway, drove off (well, paid first) and on my way to work found out that they were four cents a litre cheaper than the other stations I passed.

Four cents cheaper. At a full serve. Seriously.

And how sad is it that we live in a world where I found myself actually smiling about paying for gas?

I wish I never had to pay for gas.

Honestly? I wish I didn't have to own a car. I'm not a bad driver, but that doesn't mean I want to drive. Not much choice anymore, though. Inter-city public transportation sucks in this province, and in-city? Not much better where I live. For me, anyway. I could catch busses just fine not too far from my apartment, but there's nothing to catch that goes anywhere closer than about a twenty-minute walk to my workplace.

Bike, you say?

Have you met my knees?

Dirty Moe it is, then.





For those new to the program, Dirty Moe is my car. Long story.

Ah well. At least I saved myself four cents a litre on the great unwanted this time. And I came up with a blog post. It's an... odd post. Yep.







Guess it'll fit right in.