Freudian Slip

by AJ Mittendorf from Prince George, BC

One spring day a few years ago, my wife and I went for a drive together. 

The wind was blustery, but we didn’t care about the wind; we wanted to see the town, to say hello to it again after a long winter; we wanted to smell the air and feel the wind. So we rode with all the windows open, with no radio and with only little conversation. Our conversation was the pleasure of each others company that day.

The one drawback was the layer of winter sand on the roads. It was dry, and the wind blew it into the air with many swirling dust devils. As we turned the corner on to one of the side streets near the college, we noticed two college-age girls walking together along the road. They were also enjoying the day in their light spring dresses, talking and laughing together. That was the fateful moment when two things happened at precisely the same time. The first was that a particularly strong blast of wind blew passed the girls and caught the hems of their dresses so that they both had to do a quick Marilyn Monroe stance. 

I thought to myself: “If that wind had been moving just a little faster it would have blown those dresses clean up over their heads.” 

At the same moment, though, a gust of wind—doubtless, the same mischievous gust that had ruffled the girls’ dresses—blew dust into the car through my wife’s window and right into my eyes, and another thought entered my brain: “Now is a good time for my wife to roll up her window.” Those two thoughts met in my brain like young lovers at a garden party. 

Rubbing my eyes, I asked my wife, “Honey, would you please roll up your dress?” She wasn’t wearing a dress, Stuart. Those two girls—they were wearing dresses.

All I was able to do was drop my jaw and croak out some guttural grunting groans. By rights, she should have cuffed me. But instead she smiled, and broke out laughing. I pulled the car over and we laughed together. That there, Mr. McLean, is a fine example of a woman with a sense of humour.