Saturday afternoon I was pumping gas and, as is my habit, I went to empty my car’s trash bag. I drive around two always hungry children, so the trash was full of wrappers and apple cores. One moment I was stepping over the fuel hose, the next moment I was flying through the air, screaming, “Oh shit!” and my bag of trash was flying everywhere.
My keys landed under the van, my knee was wrenched, and I turned 50 shades of pink, becuase I was filling my 16-gallon tank and was only on gallon five. Make me feel better about my lack of coordination and tell me about your “Oh Shit”-kiss-the-pavement moment, pretty please?