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.

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3 Replies to “Gratitude”

  1. 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.

  2. 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?

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