I just can't, I just can't

I just can't control my feet.

On Friday I had less than a quater tank of gas at the end of a very irritating and tiresome night. I thought to myself that I would fill up in the morning or sometime during the weekend. Little did I know, that my sister had plans to kidnap my daughter (therefore me, as well) and we were on the adventure of a weekend. Came back home yesterday afternoon, and I did have time to get gas, but my lazy gene kicked in, so I lay on the couch for the duration of the evening. Before I went to bed though, my dad asked how much gas I had in my car. I told him the truth, less than half a tank. I would leave about five minutes early to get to work and stop at a gas station to fill up. As I was making my coffee this morning, my mom told me that my dad had taken my car over the weekend to put air in the tires because they looked low. As soon as I heard that, I knew that my dad filled up gas for me. Low and behold, when I got into my car this morning, I had a full tank.
Point of my story is, I love my daddy.