Quotidian!
Fill 'er up
Each time I go and fill up the gas tank in our car, I try to make it in such a way that the total cost ends up as a whole dollar value, rather than, say, $18.15. My wife always reprimands me because I put more gas than I should, as indicated by the automatic mechanism that clicks when the tank is supposedly full. This afternoon, though, it automatically stopped at a round $17 without my intervention. Modern psychologists will probably label me as having obsessive compulsive disorder, but I'd rather have that than not being able to find simple joys in absolutely trivial and inconsequential events each day.
Fill 'er up
Each time I go and fill up the gas tank in our car, I try to make it in such a way that the total cost ends up as a whole dollar value, rather than, say, $18.15. My wife always reprimands me because I put more gas than I should, as indicated by the automatic mechanism that clicks when the tank is supposedly full. This afternoon, though, it automatically stopped at a round $17 without my intervention. Modern psychologists will probably label me as having obsessive compulsive disorder, but I'd rather have that than not being able to find simple joys in absolutely trivial and inconsequential events each day.