Combustion

**Preface**

I began writing this post a few days ago, but promptly had to put the computer away when I saw my dog at the front door. You see, I had let her out in the back yard, but suddenly she was at the front door, frantically "knocking" with her paws to try and get back in. I let her in and she hung out for a while in the living room with Carter and me (Jeffrey was at a co-worker's birthday party). I had no intention of letting her out again that evening because I figured the yard needed to be inspected for Dixie-sized holes under the fence so as not to end up with another ding-dong ditch by my dog at the front, but then she started this whiny, frantic, incredibly believable charade of convincing me that she HAD to go outside to poop. (And let's face it: Who wants to gamble on that one?) Skeptically, I let her outside. And then was completely not surprised when she wasn't in the back yard a few minutes later. I was, however, surprised when I shook some food in a cup outside the back and front doors and she still wasn't coming home. In a total panic (because I wanted to find our dog but also really, really didn't want to wake the sleeping baby to go combing the Temple streets for her), I called in reinforcements. Jeffrey's first question on the phone was: Is she wearing her collar? I don't know. She is microchipped but I honestly don't even really know what that means. Probably that if she ever walks out of a CD store, the alarm will go off. Jeffrey ended up being able to find her really quickly in the greenbelt behind our house. He described finding her like this: I heard something rustling in the leaves, so I said, "Dixie dog?" **Rustle, rustle, rustle!** "Dixie girl, is that you?" **Rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle!** "Dixie, get back in the yard!" **Rustle, rustle, SPRINTING striped dog back through the open gate and into the yard, never to escape again.** And that's why this post didn't get posted. Humph.

**Chapter 1**

I've done a lot of silly things lately that I've blamed on pregnancy/post-partum brain. Well...now my baby is almost 5 months old. Is it too late to continue this excuse?

Yesterday I needed gasoline in my car. Unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence due to my commuting to Killeen daily for work. Most people have somewhat of a routine about these things. You pull up to the pump, you stop your car, grab your keys, pump some gas, and get on with your life. The problem comes when you change your routine. Even a tiny change can cause a major breakdown in the system.

For example...

Yesterday I pulled up to the pump while thinking about a new song I'd heard on the radio that I wanted to download. As I got out of the car I checked my phone to see if I could find it. As the gas started to fill the tank, I heard someone call my name. It was a former employee from my dental office wanting to say hi at the next pump over. I talked to her for a minute and as I walked back to my car I realized with horror that I wasn't holding my keys.

O. M. G. Did I lock them in my car?!? I do not have time for this.

Relief was immediately followed by more horror as I flung open the car door (which was unlocked) and spotted my keys...

...in the ignition.

I closed my eyes to wait for what was sure to be a massive explosion since I was simultaneously watching gasoline pump into my car while the engine was running. I wasn't great in Chemistry class, but I do know that you're not supposed to mix combustion with gasoline unless you want more combustion.

I turned the car off for the rest of the filling up (like it mattered at that point anyway) and thanked my lucky stars that I didn't blow my little Toyota Corolla into tiny charred
pieces.

Oy. I have got to get it together.