"So," my husband asked conversationally, "what kind of car do you want next?"
Not a good question to ask me. His question would probably send most women into daydreaming, but not me. Why? Because I hate cars.
I hate the car payment that comes with them. I hate the increase in insurance that comes with them. I hate the feeling of every mile that goes on the odometer taking away the dollar value of the car. I hate the feeling of doom with a tight corner, a scratch or any new sound the car makes. I just genuinely hate cars.
"You have to have a car." my husband says in a voice that smacks of the knowledge that I can't possibly have an argument for something so obvious.
Ha! You'd think that being married thirty something years, he'd know better. Apparently not.
"No I don't." Well that answer was a bit far from brilliant.
"How are you going to get around then?" he asks, still knowing that he has me in a corner.
"I'll get a horse!"
"A horse!" Yep, he never expected that answer. Score one for Mary.
"Yes a horse! Think about it, no carbon emissions," here my son rudely laughs, he knows he has me, "no having to buy it gas, or oil." More rude laughter from the testosterone crowd. "Fine, but it's 'exhaust' is good for the garden." I counter hotly.
"What happens when it gets sick?"
"The same as a car, but instead of bringing it to the mechanic, we bring it to the vet."
"I wonder which one is cheaper," my husband muses. "The vet or the mechanic."
"And instead of having to pay someone to tow away a dead car, we can sell the horse to the glue factory." I finish, warming up to my rant.
"Mom!" protests one of the estrogen set.
"Which reminds me," says a member of the testosterone set, "Roses are red, violets are blue, horses that lose, soon become glue!" He breaks into laughter.
To be continued