Men are from Mars…

There’s a few things I hate. And I always do them to myself. Like how I didn’t put my clothes away yesterday, so I started today off digging through the hamper full of clothes.

Which made me late, so I didn’t make the bed.

And then I hopped in my car and realized I never got gas over the weekend. And I HATE having to stop and get gas on Monday morning. Don’t ask me why, I just hate it. So I figured I’d push my luck and get gas on my way home from work. Except I didn’t even make it 15 minutes into my ride to work when the gas light came on.

Ugh.

So I think “no big deal, I’ll get gas near work.” I fly by a few gas stations because they aren’t on the right side of the road. Literally and figuratively.

And then I run straight into a huge line of stopped traffic. With my gas light on. Over a bridge. Obviously I start running through all the worst case scenarios. I scan the traffic ahead and behind me, wondering if any of these people carry gas cans filled with gas they might let me use. And then I wonder if I would even have cash to pay that pretend person I was getting gas from. And then I wonder if we brought our gas can from Maine that we used for our lawnmower and if my Mom could siphon gas into it and bring it to me. And… so on. You get the gist.

As I’m sitting there, wishing and hoping and running worst case scenarios through my mind, I laugh out loud, thinking Casey would take this as a challenge, he wouldn’t be panicking – he would be proud. Because you know, it’s such a guy thing to push how far you can go on a tank of gas (no offense to any girls that also take that little gas light as a personal challenge).

Turns out, I made it to a gas station, and all is well. And I  figured out another reason why Men are from Mars and Women are from Planet Common Sense. Well this, and the fact that he’s looking forward to the newest “Die Hard” movie.