I’m guilty of having blonde moments occasionally. My most spectacular one thus far had to be when we were first dating. Sean had lent me his TranSiberian Orchestra Beethoven’s Last Night album since I had never heard of them. Months later we were riding in his car, and I was in charge of selecting the next CD. Flipping through the book I came across the TSO CD, pulled it out, and turned to him.
“Did I ever give this back to you?”
The fact that he didn’t pull over and leave me on the side of the road is a testament to the kind of man he is. The fact that he married me makes me question his judgement.
But I must be rubbing off on him, because yesterday we had a moment that rivaled my CD incident.
We went to an SCA business meeting and Arts and Sciences “stitch and b*tch” in the early afternoon, but at 4pm we had to be in the car on the way home for the 4:30 Patriots game kickoff. We’re halfway home when Sean looks at me.
“Why are you in the car?”
At first I was confused and slightly hurt, thinking he had finally come to his senses about the CD incident 6 years ago. But then it dawned on me.
We had come in separate cars.
I had gone to church that morning and had gone straight to the meeting. I had been so distracted loading stuff back in his car that my brain must have gone on autopilot and assumed that, as usual, we had traveled together. I was also distracted trying to make a cranky baby in my friend’s car laugh. Can I claim pregnancy brain by very delayed proxy?