Nashville ran out of gas this weekend. Not so much because of a real lack of gas, though that did play a small part. No, it is because our city is crazy. And anxiety ridden. And kinda stupid in a silly way.
Because I pulled up to a gas pump, no line, no waiting for the pumps to prime, on Sunday afternoon. After the mass hysteria.
Because of this situation I get a call this morning from my mom…
Marie: Hello.
Mom: Marie. What was the name of the kangaroo before it was a kangaroo?
Marie: Excuse me?
Mom: The kangaroo. What did we call it before?
Marie: What kangaroo? You guys have a kangaroo?
Mom: On the corner. Marie, what was it called? (Her voice tells me this is not the time to act like I don’t understand her… unfortunately, I really don’t understand her)
Marie: The kangaroo? On the corner? I really don’t know…
Mom: Marie!
Marie: Mom! (Because saying each other’s name in frustration helps the communication process) I don’t know a kangaroo on a corner… OH!!! The Kangaroo Express gas station! What was the gas station called before it was a Kangaroo Express! I get it!
Mom: What did you think I was talking about?
Marie: A real kangaroo. I thought you needed the name of a kangaroo. Isn’t that funny? I thought you’d gone crazy. That we’d have to put you down or something…
Mom: What was the kangaroo before? (She isn’t down with the jokes today.)
Marie: Golden Gallon.
Mom: Thank you. I need to call and see if they have gas. Bye.
Beginning your day with funny phone calls from mom is better than coffee.
The Poor Mom 