I admit it. I put the noid in paranoid. I don't like jaywalking because I don't trust cars to not hit me. I don't like swimming in more than 5 feet of water because I'm afraid my legs will cramp up while I'm treading water and I'll drown. I don't like tempeh burgers because it sounds like the Tempest which has negative connotations. You get the picture.
So, when Chad comes home saying he thinks we should sell our Dodge Stratus (Yes. We drive a Dodge Stratus. Well, technically, he drives a Dodge Stratus. I also fear driving. And learning.) and buy a cheapy car and a motorcycle, I was at a loss for words. Sure, motorcycles are badass and wicked sweet when other people who are not married to me ride them. But I can't stomach the idea of Chad actually using it as a mode of transportation.
HE COULD DIE
I mean, granted, he could just as easily die in a cheapy car, but isn't he much more likely to die on the motorcycle?
DOESN'T WYATT DIE AT THE END OF EASY RIDER?!
I told him I needed to think about it. But the fact of the matter is I don't bring enough money into our situation to really have a say in the matter. His income supports us, it houses us and feeds us. I think my income might buy us fancy lattes with soy foam. Who am I to pass judgement when I don't even know how to drive? When all I do is take advantage of the money and the driving ability I married into?
F.
I need ice cream.
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