don't know when that road turned into the road I'm on

Okay, the hormonal flare of yesterday's post seems to have passed- blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head. Maybe.

Last night, as I was driving my car home, I realized that, since getting rid of my old car, I don't have a good sense of how many miles I can still drive once the fuel light comes on now. This little piece of minutiae caused hyperanalytical thoughts. I started thinking again about extremists. My friend K has never allowed her tank to dip below the 1/4 mark... in fact, I truly question whether she has knowledge of the existence of a fuel light. On the other hand, there are the Kramer's of this world, who love to see how long they can push the limits of reason, who seem to get a rise out of running on empty. I had an ex-bf who ran out of gas at least twice while I was driving with him. I don't mean, running on fumes; I mean stalled out car on a dark deserted street in the middle of the night.

But it got me thinking that there is a certain comfort in the extreme. K is calmly confident that she will always have enough gas, because, like clockwork, she fills that tank up at her predetermined time. I look at her like she's cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but she is serene in her knowledge that this is her way, and it has never failed her. On the other hand, on both occasions that my ex-bf ran out of gas, he too showed no signs of distress. He just laughed and cheerfully jumped out of the car, running out to the trunk, where he knew enough to keep a plastic cannister for fuel, and walked off into the darkness to find the nearest gas station. To him, it was never omg, I'm such an idiot for running out of gas; it was a simple shrug and this will make an amusing anecdote.

And here I am, stuck in the middle again. Me, I don't have the good sense to religiously fill the tank, but when the fuel light comes on, I fret and think can I make it home or do I need to pull over at the nearest gas station? I am not rolling with it, one way or the other. I'm constantly dissatisfied by my behavior because it's always so moderate, it's always so ambivalent:

Some will laugh, and some will sit and cry
But you just sit down and you wonder why.

On a completely unrelated note, I dare anyone to compete with the funny that is J- her comments to my posts are funnier than anything I've ever written.