Six weeks ago, when Sister Hartshorn and I got our new car (a Chevy Malibu), the tire pressure was low enough for the "check tire pressure" light to be on. All she had to do was turn the ignition on, and the warning popped up. [That is, the previous missionaries - teenaged boys - did not take care of a problem that originated while the car was under their stewardship.] So we went to a gas station and filled it up, but without a pressure gauge. Luckily, the Chevy Malibu was new enough that it had a digital pressure gauge on the dashboard for us to monitor. Still, we were a little scared that we were going to over-inflate the tires and lose an eyeball or two.
About one week ago, we were told that we were trading out our Chevy Malibu for a Toyota Corolla. The Corolla, too, was previously operated by teenaged boys. We traded on Tuesday morning, and we made sure to clean everything out of our old Chevy Malibu so that they elders would be getting a clean car. What we got in exchange was a car that probably hadn't been vacuumed in months. It looked like someone took a handful of hay and scattered it on the interior floor of the car! It was also missing up-to-date insurance cars. So we did the responsible thing and texted the Office Elders, who get to develop some pretty enormous "managing a large organization" skills and requested that they send down new insurance cards as soon as possible.
On Saturday, we switched out the Toyota Corolla for a Ford Fusion. This car was also lacking up-to-date (i.e. non-expired) insurance information. So we requested a new card from the Office Elders for the Ford Fusion, too. Moreover, in the glove box, we found the overdue mileage log and receipts from gas stations. Saturday was May 5th, and we were supposed to mail in the mileage log and the receipts by May 3rd, at the latest. So we texted the Office Elders and let them know that Baton Rouge North Spanish's mileage log/receipts would be mailed on Monday morning, but that they would probably arrive late. [Remember, s'il vous plais, that our area is NOT Baton Rouge North Spanish, but rather, Chalmette English.]
Even though I'm sort of ranting about it right now, I was careful to be significantly more diplomatic when I texted the Office Elders. But I just wanted to point out that the Office Elders have undoubtedly learned that even when they send out texts in March 2012 asking missionaries to check on their insurance cards, the only way to really know that the cards are up-to-date is to ask Sister Hartshorn and Sister Palmer to drive the car for a day or two.
I realized today that I've been getting a little bit crankier than is healthy. I was annoyed at the Walmart pharmacy, I was annoyed at the Walmart cashier. I was annoyed at a disabled little old lady who was trying to park in the Walmart parking lot, because she was driving closer to my companion than I thought was respectful. (That's the sort of thing that would annoy a prison inmate.) And that's not good. Because my face is an open book, and people can tell when I'm annoyed.
Not to mention the fact that feeling cranky just doesn't feel good.
Or that Heavenly Father wants me to love the people of Louisiana, and you can't do that if you're annoyed at them.
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