He said. She said.

Dear friends,

It rained at our place yesterday. Big ol’ buckets of rain poured down for most of the day, including just as Mr. Mom and I were falling asleep. Under the steady drum of rain on our roof in a house that was dark and otherwise still, here’s the conversation we had.

Mr. Mom:  I forgot to tell you. When I was driving to Wichita earlier this week, I drove through the worst rain ever. I could barely see the road and had to slow way down. I’ve never driven through rain that hard.

Joan: That’s not true.

Mr. Mom: What do you mean?

Joan: It’s not the worst rain ever. I was with you when you drove through the worst rain ever — that night we drove from Tulsa to Nowata and I was so scared and made us pull over. Remember? It was raining so hard the water started pouring through the seals of the side windows.

Mr. Mom: That was a function of the windows in that crappy ol’ Ram Charger and the wind, not the rain.

Joan: Not true! When we pulled over, it was raining so hard we couldn’t even see our hood ornament — and the rain was so heavy that RAIN WAS POURING IN our windows.

Mr. Mom: <chuckling> Shut up!

Joan: No! You’re wrong, and you’re trying to blame the windows when in fact it was the heaviest rain you’ve ever been in.

Mr. Mom: <chuckling> Oh, so you’re saying the wind wasn’t a factor?

Joan: The wind WAS a factor.

<Pause>

Joan: But it was still the heaviest rain ever.

With gratitude {for a pillow partner that lets me win all the important arguments},

Joan, who is the Master of Trivial Pursuit in her own life

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