Even an old fart like me can learn something new now and then. I used to HATE figuring out – for the first time in a newish car – which way to pull up to the gas pumps. So I did my best ostrich impression, pretending that with all my contortions I just might be able to really view something entirely out of my line of sight. I fiddled with my mirrors and generally ended up just pulling in. After all, the odds are 50/50.
NOW I realize that there was a simple, understated, obvious answer staring me in the proverbial face for a while. Not sure exactly when it went into effect, but auto makers started painting a teeny arrow alongside the dash fuel indicator, an arrow pointing to the side of the car where you fill ‘er up. For older vehicles, the fuel indicator was a bit more subtle; the gas pump emblem’s “hose” pointed toward the side where you put in fuel.
It was staring me in the face all along, though the arrow indicator is a bit more obvious. It’s a simple and smart idea, the kind of thing that generates a whole lotta facepalm moments of, “I should have thought of that!”
If only it were that simple.
I actually DID have a good idea, and still think it’s a good idea, but it would take around $10K to develop it fully and it’s too close to other things that are out there now.
But I digress.
Another day, another house. Given the gradually encroaching end of our lease, we’re aiming now for a traditional sale, which offers more than a few advantages over short sales and foreclosures – not the least of which are laws which require known issues to be stated at purchase. This place doesn’t have great pictures of its indoor spaces. The current owners are clutterbugs stuck in the 80’s. But the home has the 4 beds 2 baths and square footage we need, with the added bonus of a back yard that’s absolutely lovely.
Very pretty place. I actually have hopes for this one. Fortunately G and I agree that the first thing to go will be the salmon paint in the kitchen.
The previous house deal is still out there pending too, as a backup. We already know have to make multiple offers to get the job done so we’re slamming ’em out these days! Sooner or later one of them is bound to stick, just on the law of averages.
Perhaps the saddest part of this entry is that when I started out referring to myself as an old fart, it was with complete oblivion to the title I’d just typed. The mind is definitely slipping. Or maybe I’m just a subliminal comic. Yeah, that sounds more like it. Flatulence jokes, car education and house porn. You won’t find it anywhere else, folks, not for any amount of money.