I’m overwhelmed at the audacity of my husband of forty-two years, although at this point in our marriage, nothing should surprise me.

Driving up north to the cottage last winter, John wanted to check out some hardwood flooring and turned left at a strip mall to go into the store. Snow banks blocked his view; he soon realized that he had turned too early and we were in the Subway Sub plaza, just south of his intended destination.

Instead of turning right to get out of there, which could have been done easily, he turned left and followed the very visible DRIVE THRU arrow, proceeding up the lane.

I wondered why he was doing this but have trained myself not to second-guess my perfect husband. Suddenly we saw not surprisingly, after all this was a drive thru, that there was a car in front of us telling a metal box what he and his family wanted for lunch.

I surreptitiously peeked in my side mirror and saw that there was now a car behind us; we were trapped.

Wanting to know how long we were going to be held hostage, I checked the clock on the dash in front of us. It was five minutes after one.

John never once said a word. No: “That was a stupid move.” or “I guess I was daydreaming.” or “How the hell did this happen?” Instead we both sat there with varying thoughts running through our heads but no one speaking.

He just sat arrogantly looking straight ahead, with the demeanor of a man calmly waiting at a red light and in sixty seconds it would turn green and we’d be on our way. I waited for six full minutes without making a single wisecrack.

I had lots of time to deliberate and thought about how he reacts to anything stupid that I do. Just that very morning I had our dog Laci on my knee in the car, a few decorating magazines beside me, a pen and notepad in my hand and in these congested conditions, my water bottle rolled onto the floor. John did one of his condescending, barely audible, little sniggers to let me know I was a disorganized klutz. He does it very softly, with his mouth shut and the sound comes out his nose. This is done quietly in case I comment on his rudeness and he can then pretend that he was just blowing a little fluff out of his nostril.

Why was I being so downright complaisant? What would he say to me in this instance? So I emulated his little nose snicker. That’s all I did, while watching the clock go to seven minutes.

He erupted, “I knew you couldn’t keep quiet! You just had to say something didn’t you?”

I laughed at his reaction just before the comeback spewed from my mouth. “You must think I’m some kind of idiot to sit here for seven minutes and not comment on your mistake. Why the hell would anyone drive into a Subway Sub drive thru at the peak of the lunch hour? John, did you honestly think that if you stayed quiet, I wouldn’t notice what you did?”