Remember the movie, “Mad Max,” where gas is so precious that people are killing each other for a few gallons?
It was set in the future — I think it was July 2022.
I’m thinking about making a new movie, “Mad Hubby,” where gas is so expensive that he drives his wife crazy.
When gas hit $5.09 a gallon, Hubby remarked that the Amish have the right idea, driving a horse and buggy.
Now, Hubby wants us to live like the Amish.
He’s gone as far as insisting I don’t use our clothes dryer any more. Instead, he wants me to hang our clothes on chairs around the house.
No kidding! I came home from work Tuesday to find his underpants draped over the kitchen chairs. Yikes!
“What on earth?” I said out loud.
As soon as Hubby came home, I abstained from any pleasantries and went right to the heart of the matter.
“Why is your underwear hanging all over the place?” I said.
“I’m saving money. Have you seen the price of gas? It’s exorbitant!” he said, waving his arms in the air and looking all wild eyed.
“But we have an electric dryer,” I said.
“So what! We have to cut costs everywhere,” he said. “I’ve decided that we are going Amish!”
I stood there dumbfounded.
Faithful readers know Hubby keeps a tight grip on his wallet even in the best of times, but this is ridiculous!
I told him he’s ridiculous and you know what he said? “Amish wives obey their husbands!”
Good grief! Surely, there must be a more sane solution. I suggested a clothes line. He’s “thinking about it.”
Faithful readers know this isn’t the first time we have faced runaway inflation and high gas prices — and we survived. Remember the 1970s? Gas station lines, roller skating rinks, disco dancing, short shorts, bell-bottom jeans and Saturday morning cartoons? Everything was groovy.
Things went haywire when the oil crisis of the ‘70s finally ended and people sold their Volkswagen Rabbits, Chevy Novas and Dodge Darts and replaced them with Suburbans and Hummers boasting the fuel economy of a Boeing 747.
I suggested Hubby sell his Toyota Takoma pickup truck and buy a compact car. He didn’t want to hear that!
In the meantime, I’m doubling up on my nerve pills to deal with Hubby, who just came home sporting a straw hat and the start of a beard.
Staff writer Shelley Terry reminds faithful readers that while gas may cost an arm and a leg, laughter is still free. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.