The details of this story are all true and have not been changed or enhanced. The brain in question is truly this brokendown. It has been undergoing severe strain and exhuastion due to the complete meltdown of the BBCB transfer and while this is no excuse for the farts it is, I hope, some kind of explanation.
Coming home from a softball game this past Sunday we stopped for gas. I pumped 16 of the 18 gallons needed and then realized that I had never turned the ignition off, risking life and limb of my entire family. As we drove away a man flagged us down to inform us that I had not screwed the gas cap back onto the car and the whole side was open and flapping around. Skip ahead 3 days and the phone rings. A man says, "hello, my name is Dan." I nearly scream, "I'm on the DO NOT CALL LIST!" but luckily I wait because he follows up by saying, "I think I have your debit card. I found it in the middle of a gas station Sunday night."
I have, in a single visit to the gas station, risked blowing my family up twice and handing my entire bank account to a stranger who googled my name and found my phone number AND address. So, I am tempted to just go into Moses' room and call a truce with the BBCB but maybe instead I'll just stay home for however long it takes for me to sleep again - that just risks burning down the apartment.
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