Too early for questions

Good Friday morning! 

We had to stop and get gas in the auto this morning before our daily migration to Oklahoma City.  Anyone besides me getting a little tired of the 20 questions at the gas pump? 

Questions like:  Debit or Credit?  Car Wash?  Receipt? 

Well, ok.  So it is only three questions.  But at 6:30 a.m. that is three questions more than I care to answer.  Answering questions requires thinking and thinking is not something I want to do that early in the day.  It is hard enough trying to decide whether to eat the Raisins, Dates and Pecans cereal or the Cranberry Almond Crunch cereal.  After answering the questions about car washes, receipts and the type of card we want to use, we have to select a grade of fuel.  In the good old days, there was only one thing to do.  Lift the handle and pump whatever was coming out of the hose.  Now, there are five or six buttons to push to select a grade of fuel.  Eighty-seven octane up to 90-something.  At some pumps, there are one or two additional options on the amount of ethanol you want in your gas in addition to the other grades of fuel.  Getting gas is becoming too complicated.  At least at 6:30 in the morning.

When we got home last night, there was a box sitting at the front door.  Debbie quickly grabbed it.  There is something subversive occurring around our house.  I was not allowed to see what was in the box and was banished from the bedroom for several minutes.  I AM THE HEAD OF THIS HOUSE, WOMAN!!  True, you are the neck and when the neck turns, the head moves.  But still.  No secrets!!!  Do not give me that business about waiting a few days before I find out what was in the boxes.  Yes, boxes.  It turns out there were smaller boxes in the larger box.  And since when do people ship stuff from somewhere without identifying who they are?  In a nation full of laws of all kinds regulating everything imaginable, is it possible there is no law demanding that the sender identify themselves on the daggone box they shipped via UPS?  It is a conspiracy, I say. 

Hope you have a good day... without secrets.