Our Whee-Some Threesome

Thought for the day:  There's a reason it only takes two to tango. With three, someone's toes are bound to get stepped on.

It was his idea. My hubby mentioned her name as a possible Father's Day gift for him, and he said it all innocent-like, too, as if the idea weren't completely contrary to everything I thought I knew about him. But ya know, I got to thinking about it. Smarticus has certainly been around the block a time or two, and has always made his way through life on his own terms, forging his own path, and following his own instincts. Maybe it was time to shake things up a bit, no matter what my misgivings were. So I gave in to him. I did.

Yep. I brought the lovely Maggie home... his very own Magellan GPS unit. (She's actually kinda sweet, but I should've known he'd end up abusing her.)

My concern? I've never had a problem with him telling  me where to go, but how was he going to like Maggie  telling him where to go? He doesn't need anyone to tell him where to go, because, you see, the man has an uncanny sense of direction. I'm telling ya, he can read any map, (fold it, too!) and his dead reckoning skills are second to none.

Well, whattaya know? My concerns were groundless.



Bottom line, he enjoys toying with her... the same way he used to toy with me.

Before we were married, Smartacus amused himself by driving me to the middle of nowhere, and then letting me direct him back home. Gas was less than a quarter a gallon back then, so driving around and around in circles for hours on end was cheap and hilarious entertainment. You see, there's no gentle way to put it... my sense of direction stinks worse than an outhouse in July.

Now, he tries to get her lost. Yep, I recognize that laugh when Maggie tells him to turn right and he deliberately goes in the opposite direction, and when she lays out one route and he deliberately takes another. Oh yeah, it's the same laugh he used when he said, "Are you sure you want to go that way?" or "I do have to go to work on Monday."

But to tell the truth, I don't think Maggie's taking too kindly to his fun and games. To the sheer disrespect of it all. She hasn't started using inappropriate language yet, but she uses lots of meaningful pauses. Or I dunno, it may just be that she's being polite, and waiting for us to stop laughing before she speaks again. Frantically, she tells him, "Turn right! Turn right!" and after he zips past yet another turn-off, she's stunned into silence before sighing (honest!) and telling him in a long-suffering voice (honest!) to make a U-turn. (The word again is merely implied.) She hasn't called him a dirty bird yet, either, but we just know she's thinking it.

                                           This video reminds me of their rocky relationship:

Now, half the time, he doesn't even take the poor girl with us. Or if she does come, she isn't always allowed in the front seat with us.

No, Maggie's relegated to the back. And she can't even look out the window.

Poor thing's tossed onto the floor.

Plotting revenge.





               Thanks to GPS, I get lost with a much greater degree of accuracy now.

                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.