After driving her to Kew to look at a fireplace…
and to Bendigo and back to look at a wardrobe…
and lending her a big bunch of money to help pay for the wardrobe (‘cos those ATM card limits are a pain)…
and stopping for a snack, and buying a Paddle Pop while she was looking at something else, before unbeknownst to me she came behind up me to the counter and bought a packet of Pringles…
I didn’t expect to have the service station guy remark “Bit of a tightarse, is he?” when she ended up paying for them.
That’s not quite my definition of gratitude.
There was, however, much mirth at the remark.
3 replies on “Gratitude”
Hmm. I probably would have told him to mind his own Ps & Qs in a merrily colourful fashion.
I hate attendants like that.
However, I love seeing two blogs that echo each other. Hmmm, I wonder if anyone wants to start echoing mine…
…probably not.
That tightarse comment was really very funny. Thanks, I enjoyed it.
Mind you, I live with two females who reckon I’m a complete and utter tightarse, and more besides. Well, I try not to laugh about it of course. But really, what can you do?