When You're Right, You're Right

On Christmas Day, there had been an ongoing debate about which one of us would pilot the journey home.  The driving snow and icy roads were of little concern - our combined 44 years of driving experience had seen us through greater challenges.  Instead, our dilemma was centered around who had more sleep - whose headache was worse - which person's medication bore the pharmaceutical advisory, "should not operate heavy machinery," versus, "do not drive."

I won.

"Just remember, I can drive at any time," Ashley reminded me, as I climbed back into the car having filled up the gas tank.

"Well, if you see me crying while I'm driving, that might be an indication that you should be driving instead," I replied.

She was not amused.

"I would very much like for you to pull over before that happens," she said, grabbing my arm.

"As would I, my dear," I said, looking over at her and smiling.  "I was just trying to find a little humor," I added, hoping to break the tension.

There was an awkward pause, during which Ashley gazed at me, desperately trying to decide whether or not I was serious.   You could practically hear the questions tumbling around in her head.  Would he start crying?  Will he pull over?  Which suitcase did I pack the straight jacket in?  Is there enough room in the back for his body if I just kill him now?

Ethan's voice floated up from the back seat.

"Well," he said of my attempted humor, "it's somewhere but it's not here."

- 25 December 2012