What are you thinking as you (once again) cannot discern which car door to approach? Here is our car. It is parked at the Annapolis Mall, in a row in front of Punk's Backyard Grill. You follow me to the driver's door.
"Why don't you head around to the other side?" I say, making a little semi-circle with my finger. Other side computed, in an odd way. You walk clear around the hatchback on our port side and try that car's driver door. "Let me show you," I say. I walk around the hatchback too, say "C'mere," and escort you to our shotgun door, which I open to make things quite obvious.
You are neither ruffled nor frustrated. Maybe slightly bemused, in a "well, that was tricky," kind of way. Like I would be if I couldn't quite figure out which way to insert the disk into the Wii, and Gabe had to show me. The thing is, if someone had to straighten me out on game consoles every day, and I never learned, I would become quite perturbed, but you do not. It is a fresh little bit of trickery every time, and, as far as you're concerned, it could and probably does happen to everyone. No fretting required. Who would argue that there's not at least a little bit of fortunate irony in this?
No comments:
Post a Comment