It's Whining Wednesday

Maybe if I set aside one day a week to whine, I really will become the glass half-full kind of girl that I've always wanted to be (they live longer) for the rest of the week ...

1. First whine- the plumbing in my house stinks. One faucet after another has started to drip, one toilet handle after another is not even jiggle-able anymore. Handy hubby told me this morning to flush the downstairs toilet "very slowly".

When we first bought this house- we were just so happy to be out of our crappy apartment and excited that someone would actually sell us a house that we overlooked a few things.

I remember the realtor turning on every faucet, smiling that happy realtor (ka-ching) kind of smile and handy hubby and I (he was handy boyfriend in those days) smiling and nodding as if we had never lived in a place with running water before.

Later, George and I had a good laugh about happy realtor's faucet olympics - but now that I can appreciate the beauty in a sink that doesn't have an endless parade of potted plants sitting in it to catch the drips, I miss those days when we were young and stupid

(and had empty sinks and toilets that could be flushed fast and thoughtlessly like they are supposed to be)

2. 2nd Whine- someone stole gas from my car in my driveway and no one believes me about this.

My proof of this is:

1. I put gasoline into my tank
2. I went to sleep
3. I woke up to no gasoline in my tank

(and I think, even on my most distracted mornings, I would notice a 10 gallon puddle of Amoco unleaded in my driveaway)

But apparently this is all something I must have imagined because after hubby analyzed my gas cap for "pry marks" - and found none

(and I was unable to produce a gas receipt, although I am left asking what kind of man would even ask his wife for such a thing- where did the trust go?)

he did, of course, find some orange paint on my side mirror and asked who I'd hit - assuming that I had hit someone and not that someone had hit me (this paint is actually from a very poorly placed pole outside of a drive thru window that I had hit, but his assumption totally irked me and so I said)

"it must have been the gas thief"

as you can imagine, this line has now become the family joke line and every misplaced set of keys and sunglasses is blamed on the "gas thief"

so, anyhoo, yesterday I decided to talk to a NJ State Trooper about this (our town has no police department, that's right, no police- probably the main reason for the rise of gas thievery in our driveways) and a small handful of state troopers have moved into the municipal building across the street from our house.

The trooper looked at me a bit strangely (hubby may have been giving her a cuckoo hand signal behind my back, although he denies this) and said that maybe it was "a friend playing a joke"

which is totally ridiculous because

1. I don't have any friends

and

2. if I did, they would be the kind of friends to autograph my side walls with deep key scratches not steal gasoline because they know how much I dislike the oil companies

Well, I could whine all day, but I am off to Home Depot to buy a new toilet handle and ... of course, I have to get gas first.