Gary came by work to take me to lunch Friday. He was chatting with Friend #3. It went something along the lines of "Oooo...Prius blah blah!" "YES! Prius blah! Yes!" "And I heard Prius blah GREAT blah blah!" "Blah! Exactly!Fabulous blah Prius!"
So today we went and bought a Fit. Because that's how he is. I went along with him, because anyone with epilepsy should own a Honda Fit, and as soon as they make a Toyota Lesion I'll buy one for myself.
It's so frustrating to be involved with the Divergent Decision Making Process. Finally after I screamed in the car the third time "WHY DO YOU ASK MY OPINION JUST TO SHOOT IT DOWN?" he explained he was looking for things to shoot down. Why not say all the things I didn't like about the Fit, also known as the Latest Wild Hair up his ass? So, after my feeble protestations ("IT'S UGLY! IT'S CHEAP! THEY CALL IT A FIT!") he decided he could live with all those things. ("So what if it's cheap?," he said, "The Mini's a BMW car. I've had a BMW, now I'll have a Fit.")
Fine, I said, but we have to get a red one. That's a deal-breaker.
So, of course, we're getting an orange Fit. A Fit L'Orange. The Grand Mal. The Squashmobile. With a license plate that reads:
The car won't be ready till Friday, then the car quandary is over. Luckily most of our major decisions have now been made, so I don't need to work with Gary's ass-backwards decision-making any more.
I say most of our major decisions have been made. On a related note, I was reading through the Consent Form for the clinical trial, and it says I need to use two forms of birth control. I was considering my other options, and I thought, "Woman, you're forty-five. Just tie your tubes already." I told Gary.
"Or," he offered, "I could get a vasectomy."
So of course this means we'll be adopting a baby from China.