Jeff says I have a bad habit (I consider it more of a necessity) of giving him driving directions when we’re in the car together.  It’s less that I give him directions really and more that I point to a turn lane here and there or occasionally tap my finger on the passenger side window to let him know that he should be merging to his right.  No biggie.

     No biggie that is until I realized that when the two of us are in the car together he completely relies on me to get us to our destination in spite of the fact that he is the one behind the wheel.  And I know that in that kind of situation the very best thing I can do is smile lovingly at him from my copilot post and go on with the pointing and the tapping.  Unfortunately for me though I’m not best known for holding my tongue. 

     I mean, I legitimately wonder what specifically it is about marrying me that rendered him incapable of doing the things he once handled so splendidly on his own. 

     So I had to ask.  What it is about marriage that makes a man’s brain turn to mush?

     My husband is not quick to anger.  He’s about as laid back and easygoing as they come.  Something about the whole brain to mush comment though really didn’t set well with him.

     Things escalated rather quickly and we went from what I thought was a pleasant discussion to something that didn’t even resemble pleasant.  I ended up pulling one of those moves where I turned as far towards the window as I could without actually, you know, falling out of it.

     The bright side, if there was one, was that I learned why his brain has been mushified.  Oh, and it’s a good one ladies.  One that I’m sure you’ll all appreciate.

     It was my fault.

     Apparently, throughout our marriage he has become accustomed to the tapping and the pointing.  So much so, in fact, that his own sense of direction has all but vanished.  It makes perfect sense really.  Technically, he can get us from Point A to Point B.  That is, of course, as long as nobody minds taking the scenic route and passing by Points G, R, and M along the way.

     So I did the good wifey thing (ya know, for the sake of loving, honoring, cherishing, yada yada yada) and attempted to zip my lip.  I sat quietly by while we piddled around town and wasted countless tanks of gas.  I bit my toungue and let him blaze his own trail even though my trail was far more time and cost effective.  I smiled through gritted teeth as he turned left when he should have turned right.  And he responded well to this newfound driving freedom. 

     I loved the freedom too.  So what if we’re a few minutes late to church?  Who cares that the price of gas has skyrocketed and we’re wasting enough fuel during our excursions to power a fleet of MINI Coopers.  Through it all I kept quiet.  I stood (well, sat really) in silent support at his side as he drove his way back into the manhood that lie in wait behind the wheel.  The glare of the open road, it seemed, freed him.

     It also blinded him.

     By golly he never even saw the cop coming.  Funny, seeing as how from my post right by his side I saw the telltale sirens atop the SUV coming towards us for at least a good 20 seconds.  I mean, between that Sheriff’s SUV and our minivan there were TWO vehicles on a lonely desert road.  I can see how he might have missed it.

     So you must be wondering if the Sheriff was the nicey nicey warning type or the rough and tumble speeding ticket type.  He was the latter.  Jeff spent the majority of Easter Sunday in traffic school.  And seeing as how I am not widely known for biting my tongue you can imagine how well I handled thatlittle diddy.

     We learned our lesson from that one, a lesson eerily similar to other lessons in our past.  I’ll go ahead and put it in writing here so that he we can refer back to it should the need arise.

     I am usually right.  If I am not right, chances are you’ll never know because I will find out before you and I won’t tell you.  It’s best if we just base all of our future interactions on the assumption that I’m right.  Let’s just leave it at that.  M’Kay?