"Do you think people feel sorry for you in my blog stories?" I ask Chris. "Like, does it come off mean? I'm not trying to be mean. I don't want my stories to make you feel bad."
"I don't care what you write. It's never bothered me. Seriously, it's fine."
We're on our way to the apple picking farm, the kids are in the back, watching a movie. Which means this is one of our most sustained conversations all week.
"Hey," he pauses, "We've been driving this way for a while. Do you think we're going the right way?"
"I'm not 100% sure, but my guess is no, Chris. I would say you made a wrong turn somewhere."
"Oh! You could write a blog about this!"
"About what?"
"Me going the wrong direction!"
"See, that's why you don't have a blog."
"Why?"
"Because this is neither funny nor interesting to others. Nobody cares."
"But it's me being an idiot. You always write about that."
"I promise you I don't write about it every time you are an idiot. Also, this isn't even being an idiot. It's just you getting slightly lost."
"But if you don't blog about this, it's just a waste of gas."
And Violà.
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