My own private peanut gallery
I had a little coughing fit in the car this morning—I hate it when my coffee goes down the wrong pipe—and decided to keep both hands on the steering wheel as I tried to simultaneously clear my windpipe and merge into rush-hour traffic. A certain 39-inch passenger was unmoved by my predicament.
“Cover! Your! MOUF!” she ordered from her throne in the backseat.
I didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified.
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