So, my wife managed to crash the car again today.
When the police showed up, she was all fired up, insisting that the guy she hit was being totally reckless.
“He was on his phone! Can you believe it?!” she exclaimed. “And, to make matters worse, he was sitting there, casually sipping on a can of beer!”
The officer, trying his best to hold back a smile, took a deep breath, looked her dead in the eye, and said,
“Ma’am… he can do whatever he wants… in his own living room.”
He hurt me every single day over the tiniest things—burnt toast, a slow text back, even the way I looked at him. “You made me do this,”…
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