Over the months, the Space Monkey and I have had this on-going argument about her keeping her feet up on the dashboard. I'm not a fan, not because of her feet but because of toe-prints on the windshield and how they make that sector of the windshield virtually useless at night.
And because of the potential she might accidentally crack the windshield.
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| Like this. |
Yes, that is our windshield. Yes, that is a crack on our windshield caused in Beltway traffic yesterday by my wife using the Bruce Chan Norris big toe of doom on it.
The timing probably could only have been poorer if we had been listening to a hockey game at the time. I was already in a bad mood because...why not? And then that happened and all I could say was, "Did that really just happen?" This was followed by virtual silence for the next forty minutes to Annapolis.
On an amusing side note, when we talked about it around her sister, I said, "For future reference, we're never having the argument about keeping your feet up on the dashboard again."
And she and Cain's wife actually seemed surprised by this.
So...I won, right?
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