Get In. Sit Down. Shut Up. Hold On.

Well, I did it again.

I went to therapy and let the hubby drive again, against my better judgment. Against ALL better judgment.

The morning started out like any other morning. I packed lunch, hugged the kids, ate breakfast, showered, and dressed for our 10:30 AM appointment.

Needless to say, I wanted to leave at 8:30 but we left at 9:03.

Hubby started the truck up while I added the finishing touches to my face. You know, a chewed up black eyeliner pencil, baby lotion, and Vaseline for lip-gloss. A momma can never find what she is looking for when the kiddies ransack her bathroom and leave her the bare necessities.

I finally got in the truck, and we took off. The fact that we took off at a pace of a NASCAR driver should have hinted me on to what was to lie ahead, but I was concentrating on keeping the hubby awake whilst he drove.

15 minutes into the drive, I blinked all of my eyeliner off, my face felt like I rubbed sandpaper on it, and I licked all of the Vaseline off trying to keep my tongue in my mouth as the hubby swerved around cars to try to make up for lost time.

I felt like I was on a bad rollercoaster ride. I tried to make it more interesting so that the hubby wouldn’t begin to nod off.

Me: “Why are you swerving? I’m getting nauseous just trying to keep in time to the swaying.”

Hubby: “I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Me: “No duh. But you can drive at a reasonable speed limit and let some of the cars past you. This is not a race.”

Hubby immediately slows down to 55 MPH. The speed limit is 65.

***driving, driving, driving***

Me: looking at my watch as the time rolls by and we haven’t reached the next county yet “You know the speed limit IS 65 MPH.”

Hubby immediately speeds up. He then fiddles with the radio and turns to ‘The Steve Harvey Show’.

We listen contently as a girl named Mikka is interviewing bachelors for a date in Chicago, fully paid for by Steve Harvey.

***driving, driving, driving***

Me: “Whoa! Slow down and let Shamu of the highway get past you. Damn trucks always hogging the road.”

Hubby: “What did you call that truck?”

Me: “Shamu. You know like the whale at sea world somewhere. I don’t know. He’s big and annoying and he practically ran us over trying to get to that next stop sign.”

Hubby: Chuckling “Your silly.”

Me: sourly “I’m glad to be of some amusement to you.”

***driving, driving, driving***

Me: “Pew whee, do you smell that?”

Hubby: “Yeah. The farmers must be out early fertilizing their land.”

Me: voice muffled as I try to talk with both of my hands covering my nose and mouth “You would think that they would have found a better use for cow poo poo than the fields near the highway. Don’t they realize that people actually drive past here and don't want their nostrils insulted?”

Hubby: “That’s not cow manure, it’s human sludge.”

Me: voice muffled as I am still covering my nose and mouth “Na-uh. Stop joking around. They wouldn’t use human waste for farmland.”

Hubby: looking at me as if I just came from the planet bobble head “Hon, this is Amelia County. Welcome to human sludge wastelands U.S.A.”

Me: “Oh my God!” Momentarily forgetting to cover my mouth and nose, and quickly covering them back up again.

Hubby: “You know I heard that it is a good fertilizer for your hair as well. Want to stop and get some?”

Me: I am now using the bottom half of my upturned sweater and both of my hands to cover my nose and mouth as the smell now permeates through the vents in the truck. “Ha. Ha. And ha! I’m so glad that you find yourself sooo amusing.”

Hubby: pouting “Well I’m just saying…”

Me: “Why? I don’t think that joking about.. WHOA! Slow down! You almost hit that car!”

Hubby: “Too late. I’m way ahead of you.”

Me: “But you did almost hit them.”

Hubby: “Well, then he should watch where he puts his car in front of someone then.”

Me: “Why can’t you admit that you almost hit that car?”

Hubby: Turning to me as if his neck is possessed by the devil with a frown on his forehead to match “Please let me drive!”

I back off, because he IS driving. Plus I want to get there in one piece.

***driving, driving, driving, driving***

Hubby is beginning to nod off.

Me: “Dude, watch the road.”

Hubby: “I’m alright, I’m alright.”

Me: grumbling under my breath “You NEED to watch the road.”

Hubby: “Wanna drive?”

Me: “You betcha damn skippy.”

Hubby: sighs as he shakes his head awake and shifts in his seat “You know I can drive.”

Me: “No argument here.”

Hubby: yawning. Hard. With his mouth open.

Me: “Pew whee!! Did you eat cheese this morning?”

Hubby: “Yup!”

Me: mumbling under my breath as I roll down the window “Good God have mercy.”

***driving, driving, driving***

We finally reach our destination, and I announce that I would drive home. The hubby shrugged me off. I took it as a yes.

*** ONE HOUR LATER***

I race to the truck and get in the drivers seat. The hubster didn’t have a chance.

I adjusted the seat, fixed my mirrors, popped in my Whitney Houston Greatest hits CD.

Hubby sat in the passenger seat, leaned back and folded his arms across his stomach.

I drove out of the parking at a respectable speed and made it to the highway without a sound from him. The only sound between the two of us was the sound of Whitney singing.

***driving, driving, and more driving ***

I am now singing along with Ms. Houston, and trying to match her high notes. I am content that I don’t sound so screechy. I am in my own little world and the hubby is silent so I assume that he is sleeping. I look over at him.

Nope. No luck. He is still awake, gripping his knees and frowning.

***driving, driving, driving ***

20 minutes from home and the hubby is still silent. I am still singing along to Ms. Houston and making good time on the highway.

I then look over at the hubs and notice that he is sitting up in his seat gripping his knees and frowning into the windshield.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Hubby: “I was trying to sleep but I can’t.”

Me: “Why can’t you?”

Hubby: “I liked your nagging this morning better than this singing of yours.”

Damn, I thought I sounded good.