I refuse to drive my wife’s car because it’s filled to the brim with sewing supplies, fabrics, craft projects, textiles, garments, etc. No organization at all, just barely enough room for the driver and one back-seat passenger, if that passenger is the size of our 8yo son. I hate even pulling it into/out of the garage for her. It’s like driving a cart to a Bedouin bazaar.
She’s gaslighting you.
The yellow “low tire pressure” light.
Whenever my ex was low on gas she would park in the driveway in such a fashion as to block me in so I would have to move her car and probably end up just taking it in to work and get gas on the way home.
I am responsible for getting my wife car gas. Being so long I don’t think she knows how anymore. I don’t mind she always rewards me.
Bruh
Wife bad!
clap please.
To be fair, my wife also seems allergic to pumping gas.
