Sean: You need to pick me up at the car dealer later after I drop off my car to be repaired.
Me: Okay, where is it?
Sean: On 60 on the north side of the street.
Me: Clueless stare.
Sean: Sigh. On the right.
Me: Still clueless blank stare.
Sean: On the side of the hand you write with.
Me: Making typing motions and shrugging my shoulders.
Sean: Huge sigh. I can't believe I let you educate our children. The opposite hand of your left-sided freckle.
Me: My biological left designator that faithfully got me through elementary school and Driver's Ed has now faded with age.
Sean: Seriously, you need help. The opposite side of the hand you wear your wedding ring on.
Me: Processing those long logistics. Oh, okay. I know right where it is!
After almost 18 years, it's the little signs of romance.