The Sweet Husband

It is always the fault of the SH

 Occasionally someone will say something to me, and, sadly, the way my brain works, it takes off in a direction that even a small child would know is not the right direction.
This afternoon, we headed to Mart to meet up with my friend Mary, and as we rounded the curve coming out on Highway 6, the sweet husband says, this is where that truck tuned over.
Truck turned over, I didn't know a truck turned over, what truck, whose truck?
He says, you know, the one on TV.
A TV truck turned over?
God, Tommie, it was the one we watched the other night!
After about a mile, he says, I can't believe you watched that show on tV, we had a long conversation about it and you don't remember.
My only reply can be, was it a show that we watch on tv, what the hell, were they filming in Marlin, if so WHY? I not only do not remember a wreck, I don't remember us watching a show about trucks!
I get really quiet, but he knows me too well. When I get really quiet, it means I have no damn clue what you are saying, but I may not necessarily want to admit that I have no clue.
A few miles pass and he says, do you remember watching the news and they talked about an 18 wheeler turning over on HIghway 6.
Nope, I don't remember it at all.
You don't remember saying the SOB must have been speeding?
Nope, I don't remember that either, but the SOB must have been speeding, and why did you tell me it was a tv show, if it was the damn news, I don't want to talk about it anymore leave me alone.

As he drives on, he says to  himself, you knew this was going to end up being your fault, woman can't remember if she's washing or hanging out, but it's your fault, keep your mouth SHUT.