In the name of bread!

BEWARE: THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME EMBELLISHMENTS FOR THE SAKE OF A GOOD READ. :)
Ugh.
I have difficulty remembering to put gas in the car. Fortunately, our car has a neon warning that counts the miles down to empty. Unfortunately, I forget to look at it on a regular basis.
Ugh.
Friday afternoon the boys and I head to Great Harvest Bakery. The BEST bread! We treat ourselves to a loaf of cinnamon-swirl every once in a while. This particular day we go to the bread store, have a hot slice and a small carton of milk each. I pay for our goodies plus a loaf of cinnamon-swirl and we leave. While starting the car I notice my friend, the neon reminder, giving me that special sign. I think to myself, "We'll get to that the next time we go somewhere."
Ugh.
Friday night Jake, Liam and I run to get a movie for a cuddle-up, eat buttery, salty popcorn with chocolate M&M's kind of night. As we pulled out of the driveway I see "17 miles to empty!" displayed on the dashboard. "No problem, we'll get gas after we pick out our movie," I think to myself. We pick out the movie, we pick out the treats. We drive home. Right past the gas station. Without filling up.
Ugh.
Saturday morning we wake up, looking forward to cups of tea and cinnamon-swirl toast. The conversation sounds like this. Me, "Boys, have you already been into the bread? I can't find it." (Hmmm...) Boys, "Nope." Me, "Will someone go out to the car and see if we forgot it?" Silence. Me, "Hey, someone run out to the car and look for the bread." Silence. Me, extremely irritated, "I know you hear me. Go find that bread!" A couple of minutes later Simon emerges from outside. No bread. Me, "Who carried the bread out of the store?" Boys, "You did." Me, "No, one of you did." Silence. Silence.
Ugh.
Saturday mid-morning I call the bread store. No, they do not remember me buying and leaving my bread. (Clark reminds me later that night of the hundreds of customers they serve daily...) Yes, they will set a loaf aside.
Saturday afternoon we head to the Department of Natural Resources and Conservation lands to walk Margaux. First, we drive up the hill to pick Liam's friend, Ryan up. At Ryan's, Liam disappears into the house, car running, I watch the minutes tick by. This is a habit of Liam's that is sooooo irritating. As I am beginning to fantasize about busting in and hauling Liam out by the back of his shirt, the boys emerge. We drive back down the hill to the DNRC and have a GREAT walk. After walking, I remember my ink cartridges should be ready at the ink-refiller store.
Ugh.
We swing by the ink-refiller store and I leave the car running as I step in "real quick". (Let me say the car has four boys and a dog in it. And they lock the door.) Ink-guy confesses that our cartridges are not-quite ready. He does his thing. I wait. The car runs.
Ugh.
After hopping back in the car I remember our loaf of cinnamon-swirl. We drive across town to Great Harvest. I pop into the store, again, car running. (Kids inside with the doors locked!) The person I spoke with on the phone did not relay the message to the girls manning the cash registers. They confess guiltily that they just sold our bread. Aarggg! (And, Clark, they do remember me. I do not know if that's good?!) They write an I-owe-you slip and tell me to come back tomorrow at noon.
Ugh.
I climb back into the car and spy my friend shrieking; we now have "4 miles to empty"! I tell the kids what a close call we are having and notice Liam's friend, Ryan, looks a bit sketched-out. I do not think things like this happen at his house. Wow, I feel like a loser as I thank my lucky stars that we did not run out of gas in Great Harvest's parking lot.
Ugh.
I stop at the closest gas station, Gary's. I've never been here before. As I turn the engine off, I notice their gas is much higher than I would expect. Hmmm. I look to my right and see a guy with a Gary's shirt on testing my fellow-customer's tires and looking under her hood. What? I look back at the Gary's sign to see "Full-Service Station" printed at the bottom. This is not typical for Montana. In Montana we do it ourselves. I am not sure what to do. Do I tip? Am I supposed to have cash? Crap, I only have my debit card. I don't even have a couple of dollars to tip if I do use my debit card. I see movement to the right. Another guy with a Gary's shirt is advancing on our car. I panic. Reflexively, my foot hits the pedal. I don't quite peel out. I don't quite pull away at an extremely fast speed. Somewhere in the middle. Not appropriate.
Ugh.
I look in the rear-view mirror, Ryan's eyes are like saucers. This definitely does not happen at Ryan's house.
Ugh.
Back on the road. My friend now says "3 miles to empty". The do-it-yourself gas station is just about that far away. Ryan-be-damned, I tell the kids to cross their fingers that we make it three more miles. After sitting through our second stop-light Ryan looks like he might jump out the window. I sympathize; I feel a little like jumping out the window too.
Ugh.
We pull in, "0 miles to empty", thank you very much. Relief does not explain the feelings I have filling my car up. Elated we made it. Scared about our close call. Giddy from adrenaline. Wanting to dance and shout for the joys of a no-service station.
We take Ryan home. Awkward goodbye.
Ugh.
Saturday night, enjoying dinner with friends, Kevin and Angela. I share this ridiculous story. I tell Clark we have to go back to the bread store at noon on Sunday. Third day in a row for one loaf of cinnamon-swirl. Everyone is laughing. Though, Clark might look a bit concerned about my mental state. He and Ryan have something in common.
Ugh.
Then it dawns on me, I left the I-owe-you slip on the counter at the bread store. Clark is sure they will remember me...