Quizzical Looks

So, I stopped for gas and one
of the employees asked if I had
paid the $491.72 bill for the new

tires I bought two months ago.
Oops. I said I thought so but
that I would ask my wife who

has a degree in accounting and
was a Human Resources Senior
Professional in the corporate

world. My gas station guy just
looked at me quizzically. She
said, “I’ll check.” She found

the invoice with scribbled in-
itials indicating the bill had
been paid. But the bank state-

ment differed by fifteen dollars
more, to which my wife stated,
“Ah, there’s the rub. Must have

been a few bucks to top off the
gas tank.” I, neither a car repair
guy or an accountant, asked

factiously if my wife wanted
a job as a bookkeeper at our
friendly neighborhood gas

station as she sat finishing
another beautiful mixed-media
sculpture, a product of her new

vocation. She looked up from
the final tricky stitch and just
stared at me quizzically. I rum-

inated. I’m such a fortunate guy
to have so many talented people
in my life like great service station

guys and someone who keeps
track of bills and someone who
makes beautiful art. I guess I just

have the knack of attracting excel-
lence in so many forms. But the
service station guys still need a

bookkeeper and, well, that’s not
one of my many talents. And then
I saw a quizzical look in the mirror.

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