Golf clap to the person in the black jag who pulled directly out in front of me this morning in our lane, causing me to stand on my brakes to avoid hitting them. This catapulted my lunch out of its bag into the dirty feed bucket with the halter in the bottom, and turned everything in my half-open purse into projectiles: tampons, phone, makeup, everything.
Phil, we’ll discuss sale driving practices tonight when you get home.
Thank you, though, for pulling over to the side of the road when I honked at you, to see what I wanted, thus allowing me to thrust two fingers at you through my window as I drove by. That did a lot to mitigate my irritation.
Isn’t marriage fun?
PS: Phil, I’m sorry for flipping you off.