Anne-Marie, a co-worker, lived in the west end so we often offered her a ride home from work as it was also on our way home. One particularly snowy night, she accepted with alacrity since using our local transit system instead would’ve meant a long wait in freezing cold and snow not to mention a very long ride.
As my husband drove slowly and carefully in the snow and congested traffic, the radio played in the background as we chatted. On came a snappy version of “Makin’ Whoopee” to which we hummed along. Suddenly, out of the blue, my husband said, “That’s what I’ll be doing when I get home!”
Stunned that he’d be so forthright in front of a co-worker yet a little titillated at his inference, I turned my red face to the window. Anne-Marie commented quietly from the back seat, “Too much information.”
It was then I realized what my husband meant. He was referring to the activity of the people in Anne-Marie's neighbourhood, all busily shovelling snow from their driveways as we passed by!
As my husband drove slowly and carefully in the snow and congested traffic, the radio played in the background as we chatted. On came a snappy version of “Makin’ Whoopee” to which we hummed along. Suddenly, out of the blue, my husband said, “That’s what I’ll be doing when I get home!”
Stunned that he’d be so forthright in front of a co-worker yet a little titillated at his inference, I turned my red face to the window. Anne-Marie commented quietly from the back seat, “Too much information.”
It was then I realized what my husband meant. He was referring to the activity of the people in Anne-Marie's neighbourhood, all busily shovelling snow from their driveways as we passed by!
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