Road Rage

Ever feel an intense need to insist loudly that you are right in a situation regardless of whether it even matters in the end? Me either.

This evening on our way home from Tommy's, a fabulous burger joint in West Fort Worth, I was taking a small detour through the arts district to see what was up at the Kimball museum. I am not originally from Fort Worth and have lived in the area only four years, but my daughter's pediatrician is downtown and I've become familiar with the streets since I've missed the turn to the doc's office at least 8 times.

So, as we drive leisurely through downtown, we decide to head home so our little one can have her bath before bedtime. I am very aware of where I am and quite confident I'm heading towards Hwy 30. Then it begins.

"Honey, where are you going?" My dear husband asks nonchalantly (at least he thinks I'll think so)

"To the highway, why?"

"Okay, but we're going North"

"Um, no...we're going South" I say, cheerfully.

"Yeah, so where's West?"

I eyeball him as I point to the west, which is obviously on my right. Then I turn to the right, heading west, until I get to the street that I KNOW leads me to the hwy once I turn left on it and continue SOUTH which will then take me to the Hwy to go east.

He starts to get antsy and mutters, "Jenn, you're going the wrong way. You need to turn back"

"No," I say, " I'm going the right way, there's the Masonic Lodge and there's 30"

He argues that he's lived here his whole life and oughta know downtown. Then he sees 30, just as I promised. When I pass the 30 West sign and drive under Hwy 30, he rubbernecks and asks NOW where do I think I'm going. I just point to the 30 East ramp as we drive onto it and look with triumph towards my sweetie. He refuses to give me props and STILL says I'd been going the wrong way! A ridiculous battle of directions ensues until I get so worked up, I'm losing all train of thought and babbling how right I am but about what I no longer know. I think I startle my husband with my intense verbiage. I cannot seem to let it go that I was NOT WRONG, about anything. Ever.

Needless to say, the conversation finally came to a long drawn out close once my love finally gave me the kudos I apparently so desperately needed (AND deserved).

That's called compromise, my friends. Let the wife be right, regardless, so everyone can just move on.