July 21, 2010
Have you ever felt really fuzzy in the head? You know that pregnancy brain feeling, or the complete sense of confusion you get when you're way too dehydrated?
I'm pretty sure that's how my husband feels all the time.
Now don't get me wrong here, I love the man, but he's one confused little buddy. Especially when he's driving. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've seen him sail through red lights, or come to a screaming halt at a nice bright green signal.
He got all worked up the other day when I accidentally hit my passenger side mirror on the edge of the garage. It's funny, if I could bet hundreds of thousands of dollars, I would wager than he's hit his side mirror on the garage at least forty or fifty times--he just hasn't noticed.
I love the man dearly, but when I drive with Jared, I honestly feel like my head is about to combust. Here's how it goes...
JARED: Let's go get dog food.
ME: Okay, let's go to the store to buy dog food.
JARED: We're going to the dog food store.
ME: Yes we are.
JARED: [drives right past the dog food store]
ME: [turning red in the face, feeling my my blood pressure rise, decide to let him keep driving until he notices, since he'll never learn if I keep correcting him]
JARED: [drives five more miles down the road] I would like to catch a trout.
ME: I would like to THROTTLE YOU! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?
ME: Where are we going?
JARED: I don't know.
This happens every time we get in the car together. Every. Single. Time.
A few months ago, I made the executive decision that I would be the driver in the family. He could sit his shapely little ass in the passenger seat, and he could worry about operating the ipod and eating his gummy fruit snacks. Simple enough.
Let me tell you, it worked beautifully--until he decided that riding shotgun was compromising his manhood. So he's been driving again, and oh my heavens, it's like half a step under water boarding.
Last night, he got lost going home. Missed the turn FOR HOME.
As he was turning around in some stranger's driveway, he looked back at James and said, "This is called a three point turn."
And I piped in with, "Daddy does a lot of three point turns."
So Jared goes, "What?! You're mad at me just for getting confused on the drive home? Are you seriously annoyed over this?"
That's when I swung open the passenger door, stepped out of the car, and started to walk.
Okay fine, that was a lie. I just rolled my eyes, gave a whole lot of snotty sighs, and copied everything he said in a Daffy Duck voice.
Mature? No. But I needed him to share the pain somehow.
Last night, when I got home from my run, Jared was glued to his laptop, watching a show on the Discovery Channel. It was all about Alaska--something where the network took eight average people, put 'em in a helicopter, dropped 'em somewhere in the tundra and said, "Good luck. There are bears. We'll see you in thirty days."
I asked Jared what he was watching, and he explained it to me and said, "I'd be so great on this show! I could totally find my way out of the Alaskan woods."
Mmm hmm. I'd love to see you take a stab at it.