In which we are both embarassed

So. Yeah. He loves me.

Gulp.

The next day, I had to work at my LYS. I was totally, completely prepared to walk, grabbing a coffee (and some breakfast) on the way. I'm a 21st century woman.

He had other plans (did I mention Mustache Man is nine years older than I am? He's pretty old school, in some ways).

I was served coffee, bacon, basted eggs (my favourite!) and toast. It was all pretty good. Even the coffee (I have few domestic skills, but I am good at making strong coffee).

And then he insisted on driving me to the shop. Would not take no for an answer, but needed gas, so we had to leave a few minutes early.

OK. Fine.

Sadly, he ran out of gas about two blocks before the gas station. So, I got out to push (something I have never, ever done, by the way. I've pushed lots of cars because of snow, because of ditches, but never because of lack of petroleum).

Mustache Man was mortified. But, I chose to be good-spirited about it, and thought it was an excellent way to work off the above-mentioned bacon and hash browns.

Until we turned into the gas station and I turned to wave thanks to the vehicles behind us.

It was a mixer truck. Not one of Construction Inc's, but a related party. I damn near died of embarrassment. I've busted my ass for two years to be taken seriously as a manager, and then I'm waltzing down a major city street, pushing a car? I was not pleased. But, at the same time, I could totally see the humour.

Got to the shop at 12:59. My shift started at 1 pm.