I’m miffed and I’m late for work. He always leaves the tank empty in this thing. Every single time.

It wasn’t that bad before the price of gas doubled. I knew I could throw scrape up the change from the console and get enough in the tank to get to work.

But not now.

Now I have to walk. Back to the gas station that I passed, with the hope of making to the next one. You know, the one that’s usually five cents cheaper. Do I walk three miles up the road or two miles back? In these heels, no less.

I should have stopped.

I should have worn sneakers.

I should have ridden my bike.

I shouldn’t have married that idiot …