Last night, driving home from the big(ger) city, and hour away from home:
(passing a sign that says "portage")
me: haha- porage.
AJ: por... age.
me: You know, I'm really glad they don't have car portages on the highway. Like where you had to carry your car over a hill or something. That would kind of suck, wouldn't it?
AJ: (after a moment or two) ... you took your pills, right?
me: yes... I should just keep those thoughts in my head, shouldn't I?
AJ: No, it's just that they're so completely random.
me: No, they're not. They only SEEM random because I don't express every thought that leads from one thing I say to the next. My train of thought's not jumping tracks- you're just not following it, and it's not going to the station you expect it to.
AJ: OK, then.
about 20 minutes later:
AJ: This road is so awful- it's no wonder people complain about it. Of course, if they actually DID fix it, people would complain about the slow traffic, too.
me: Maybe they'd have to portage around the section that's being repaired.
me: Or... well, maybe if people knew that it was either slow traffic or the car-portage, they'd be thankful they can drive there at all.
AJ: You're a loser. But I love you.
me: I know.
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