The Mis-adventures of Becky Sharp

I attempted to mow our front yard yesterday, which had grass about a foot long (almost) and weeds even taller than that. After three times emptying the grass catcher and 2/3rds through the yard, the mower ran out of gas. I'm usually pretty adept in situations like this. I've mowed the yard plenty of other times, enough to know how to fill up the gas tank on the mower. However, I was not prepared for the gas can to be filled with diesel fuel. :-(

I swear it smelled like gasoline, or so I thought. It spilled all over my hands, and the smell wouldn't wash off for the rest of the day. Our car uses diesel...I know that smell too. Regardless, I had the thought right before I filled the tank that I should call Dustin and double check the content of this gas can, as we have two in the shed...duh. But no, I have too much pride to ask questions...I was trying to surprise him by mowing the lawn before he got home. The mower started right up, and I was relieved, until it sputtered black smoke and came to a stop five seconds later. (This reminds me of a certain other "unleaded gasoline in my car's diesel tank" mix up on my wedding day...don't feel bad, Pam, I laugh every time I think of that story!)

So I stood there in my front yard for a moment, ashamed of myself for not calling Dustin. Then I called Dustin to say "Oops...please don't be mad...can you fix it?" He only responded, "You're amazing..." I don't think he meant that in a good way. As I recall, the mechanic on my wedding day had to drain the Jetta's fuel line to rid it of unleaded gasoline (only to have our car wreak of fuel for our entire honeymoon.)

Luckily, Dustin can fix anything. Otherwise, I would be in a load of trouble. Really, the worst part about the whole thing is my half-mowed front yard.