This Is Why I Am Single - Fueling the Fire

As you may know, I've been rather busy, if not running around in a dress & heels, then funning with my friends and keeping up with social obligations.  Even in a rush, I'm sometimes surprised when I realize the reason why I do some of the things I do.  For example, I like my iced tea unsweetened, but I prefer my coffee creamy and sweet.  Why not unsweetened like my tea? Why don't I like my tea sweet?  It occurred to me one day that I liked my coffee that way because when I was pre-school and staying with my grandma, I'd ask to join her in her morning coffee.  Not wanting to make me feel left out, she poured me some java.  I realized that she would pour a bit coffee into a mug of milk for me.  Since I realized that, every cup of creamy coffee is a sweet reminder of Grandma.  Well, running around lately, as I have been, I didn't keep an eye on fuel gauge as I usually do.  I kept driving to my destinations with the thought of, 'I'll get gas on the way home". Then, I would forget to do it.  Of course, a little late on my way to an engagement further away than most, I was so upset with myself that I had let my tank get so low and I had to stop for gas, making myself later.  That moment of regret was compounded by the sudden flashback to my mother in a mini-rant about my alleged father always using her car and leaving the tank empty.  She told my juvenile self to refuel when I reach half a tank.  Come to think of it, I usually do, and most certainly if I reach a quarter tank!  I realized this is something I do because my mother was so upset and I didn't want to be like my alleged father, but here I was, running late and having to stop for gas.  Is it more because I don't want to upset my mother or because I don't want to be like my alleged father, always skitting around on the verge of having pushed it too far and dying out?  Prolly a combination of the two, no?  It's these little revelations that sometimes explode into bigger personal dramas or, worse, personal excuses...

This Is Why I Am Single; sometimes I'm like my alleged father.

Now, please enjoy a vintage photo of me with my coffee-pushing Grandma, prolly right after a cup o' morning joe...