Friday night, the Husband and I head over to Book Pimp and TOAS's place for fabulous-yet-homey dinner preparations. We decided to pick up the items we needed at a grocery store near their house, so nothing would spoil if we got caught in traffic. Of course, on the way there we got caught in traffic, as the Husband (he was driving AND navigating) had forgotten said grocery store of his choice is not only on a median traffic route connected to a major traffic route, but also right next to one of the larger malls in the area.
On the way there, just before the turn into the grocery store, I saw one of those light-up street signs they have in the better areas, except this one was bright yellow and, when I first looked at it, said "Presbyterian Crossing".
I was stunned at both the specificity and the inherent discrimination. Then I blinked, and the letters rearranged (without benefit of Vanna) to say "Pedestrian Crossing".
"You know, " I said to him, still a little stunned. "For a second, I thought that sign said..."
"Presbyterian crossing?" he finished. "So did I, and I couldn't figure out why they needed their own crossing."
Marriage is having the same hallucinations as your spouse.