Exhibit E

It's Friday; and when it's Friday in the Nichols' household you can count on a few things: 1) The laundry basket is spilling over with dirty clothes 2) The fridge has somehow gobbled up the groceries I just bought and 3) The week's long worth of driving hither and thither has taken its toll on our handy-dandy Honda accord and the gas gauge needle has predictably tipped to the big, giant "E" on the dashboard. Thus, in my endeavors to be a really great wife, I typically spend my Fridays attending to the aforementioned list of "to do's" (i.e. laundry, groceries, and gas).

I was working on the latter portion of my list this morning when an older gentleman pulled up behind me at the gas pump. Initially, I thought he was going to pull around me to the empty space right in front of mine. Certainly, he wouldn't just park his car and wait for my gas pump when there were four other vacant slots at the Fred Meyer gas station. And then, I remembered I have to lower my expectations of people because he was doing just that. He wanted my gas pump! And he made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere! There he sat at pump #10, staring at me. Waiting. Waiting some more...perfectly content. I felt so much pressure to hurry! And then I thought to myself, "No! I was here first, old man! Get your own gas pump!"

Do you ever think that some people were placed on the earth just to try our patience? You know that movie The Truman Show? Like that! It's like the Lord is really just seeing how we will handle ourselves in certain situations, kind of like those stories of beggars or bums who are blown off by ordinary people like you and me, and then they end up being very prestigious and/or important individuals. Do we lose our temper? Roll our eyes? Curse under our breath? Shake our fists...or certain fingers? Guilty. Hmmm--The Rachel Show. A scary thought.

P.S. I thought of some of my favorite pet peeves (an oxymoron, by the way):

1) When almost-empty shampoo or soap bottles fall over in the shower...over and over again. Hate that.

2) When I'm trying to take x-rays on patients, and between "takes" they are flipping through a magazine. I have to "interrupt" them in order to finish my job. I had one lady the other day that wouldn't look up for me to place the film until she was done reading the sentence she was on. Hey, lady! Did you know you're at the DENTIST?! Where we take X-RAYS! The ONLY part of the appointment where we need your complete cooperation and participation?! Sheesh. Until next time ;)

Exhibit D

I'm a lucky girl. Why? Because Jason and I still go on dates a lot. Mainly because we don't have any kids yet, and we get bored staring at each other when we're home. We were sitting around at said "home" when the news announced that it was the opening night of the Spokane County Fair. It was fate. An hour an a half later, we were perusing hot dog stands, cotton candy machines, and bean bag booths (Seriously, though. Who can resist a big ol' elephant ear? Not me. No, sir).

As we were strolling through the blitz of fair food and weirdos, I noticed a couple walking about 10 feet ahead of us. They were about our age, and there was nothing particularly noteworthy about them other than the fact that they were in our direct path of where we were headed. Well, I underestimated these two...or should I say just the female counterpart of this pairing because almost as soon as I noticed their existence she paused and took the liberty of hawking a giant spit ball right on the grass/pathway...as in where people were walking...and eating (Mmmm)...and pushing their strollers. Charming. The couple then went on their merry way--I'm sure to use the bathrooms without washing their hands. Really, lady? Really? What a sicko. Why don't you just go roll around with the little piggies over at the Ag displays. I'm sure they wouldn't mind when you expectorate your lung butter, but as for me (and the rest of civilized society), I find it to be horrendous. Oh, and excuse me while I step over the little "treat" you left me and about 3,000 other Spokanites. That's all. Until next time ;)

Exhibit C

My hubby hates "Wally World." Hates it. Mainly because every time we go there we meet people who would, oh, I don't know, "make the cut" for the World's Most Obnoxious People. At all costs, when I am with him, we avoid the Super Store. The other day, for some strange reason, the stars had aligned just right and I found myself standing in line at, you guessed it--Wal-Mart. As I was unloading my "goods" on to the conveyor belt, I noticed someone whistling behind me. OK, let's get something clear: this was not just your typical cute, old man humming a tune. This was a full-blown, legitimate whistle by someone who obviously wanted to be acknowledged for his whistling "skills." I am not kidding. It was loud! So loud, that when Jason called me while I was standing it line, he could hear the noise and even asked, "What is that?" Being naturally curious (and let's face it, annoyed), I non-chalantly stole a glance at the culprit who by this time was whistling the full score to Beethoven's Fur Elise. Again, I am not kidding.

The "whistler" was even better than I imagined. Let me paint you a picture: Black denim jeans, white tennis shoes, white, long-sleeved, collared shirt, black leather vest, black leather gloves and sunglasses (not on his forehead...he was wearing them). Mind you, it was at least 95 degrees outside. He then proceeded to ask me, "'Scuse me, miss? Are those scrubs you're wearing?" to which I replied, "Why, yes they are" (I fought my urge to be a smart mouth and claim that they were my pajamas I had forgotten to change out of). We then had a very strange conversation about how his wife is a nurse and she collects fairies??? I packed up my cart, said goodbye to said Black Leather Whistle Man, and booked it to my car. As I was driving away, who should I pass smoking his cigarette with gloved hands? My friend, the Whistler. At least we know his hands were warm...in August. Strange. Very strange. Hmmm...Until next time ;)