Whew, I get to skip Sue's question about what I look like. I was going to answer honestly and everything! With photos that aren't 25 years old. But then Sara said everything perfectly here. So, I'll answer Zayrina right now, and discuss who drives whom the craziest.
I asked Gary. "Gary, do I drive you crazy? In any way?"
He pondered, then, "Nope. You're okay. You don't ask me to do anything. Even if I'm on vacation."
Then a few minutes later he paused the TiVo to blurt "You work on your PC while we're watching A MOVIE and MAKE me roll it back LIKE MILLION TIMES to see things you missed but then YOU MISS IT AGAIN when I'm ROLLING IT BACK FOR YOU!"
So, that's his complaint. In my defense, I present to you the latest in the car saga, a little tale I like to call The Psycho Motor Fit. As posted recently, Saturday we decided on the Orange Fit. (Or, as Friend #3 calls it: the Grand Mal-nier.)
Tuesday at 11 pm Gary cried suddenly, "I can't believe you are forcing me to buy an orange car! I hate orange!"
I finally choked out, "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"
"We were test-driving the car and we were going to get the red one, then you saw those orange cars on the other parking lot and got all excited about the orange one!"
When I caught my breath I explained that in Reality, I was calmly driving along, HE saw the orange cars, I said, "I can't see what color it is from inside the car, so I don't care." That was in Reality. In Gary's mind there was a more exciting conversation and much louder imaginary conversation, so he listened to that.
By midnight, after a long dog walk and some time apart he decided he'd call Honda to tell them let us look at the orange car before they started to customize it for us. I was very clear. I summarized the conversation. I threatened to email him so there would be a paper trail. It was clear. We had an agreement. He'd call Honda so we could approve the orange.
He called. To tell them forget the orange, "we" wanted them to find us a red one. When he told me this at lunch I began taking notes of everything I said. I considered getting one of those court stenographer machines.
"Let's be clear," I said, "The dealer now has one of those elusive red ones. We can see it next to the orange one tonight."
"Yes. Well. Well, he may not have the red one."
"You just said he has the red one. You said it. Didn't the sales guy tell you that very thing?"
"So where do you get this idea that he might not have the red one?"
"I made it up."
Thud, his chest said with I punched it with my fist.
He's now claiming that my subconscious told him I don't like orange. I allegedly said in my sleep, "I Hate RRrnnngggg" Of course, I make him rewind the TiVo more than once. Obviously I need to try harder to infuriate him.