Honesty purports to pay off

As we were leaving the carpool spot today, I notice that Mumbles' gas light is on and mention this oh so gently, not yet sure if he knows how to work his new car. Note: if this is all sounding very familiar, it's because we just went through this, like two weeks ago.

Turns out that Mumbles had, in fact, noticed it and the way he said it made me ask when he noticed it. Well, he explained, he had to go to Eugene for work and he noticed it on the way back. Nothing further in the way of an explanation came, so I asked why he didn't stop when he noticed it (as opposed to when I was in the car and we would have to stop on our way out of town, thereby violating a cardinal carpool rule).

"Dude, the gas station was wicked crowded. It surely was."

So from this genius statement I extrapolate that our beloved Mumbles is willing to waste my time, as opposed to just his own time. I ponder this out loud, and suggest that it may have just been better for Mumbles to lie. To that he responds that the truth will set him free. He then suggests that the time that it will take for us to get gas will increase our quality time together, as if 2.5 hours in the car together every day isn't enough.

But wait! It gets better. I'm crabbing at him the whole way to the gas station, and in a lame attempt to get me to shut up, Mumbles offers me money. More specifically, he said that he would give me $1 for the two minutes it takes for us to get gas (yep, that 50 cents a minute). As if two minutes of my life can be bought for $1.

As we pull into the gas station (nearly getting crushed by an oncoming car in the process), Mumbles notes with relief that there is an open spot. We pull up, the gas dude takes our order, and Mumbles tells him that he felt like he was being waived into NASCAR's pit row.

Turns out that getting gas took us 3 minutes, which means that Mumbles owes me $1.50.