I can't explain it, and neither can she. But on occasion, she misreads the stars or the road or whatever it is that guides her. And when that happens, she gets miffed, as if it is my fault.

In those instances, if she says anything at all, her icy voice says but one word, and she draws it out, aggrieved exasperation dripping in her tone: "Recalculating."

That's it.

Not "Oops, you seem to have missed your turn. That's okay. Just take the next left." Or"Maybe you decided to take a different route. No problem. Try turning right onto Burlington Drive."

Just "Recalculating."

And I want to scream at her, "You know what? You act like you know everything.You pretend that you have this all-knowing, all-seeing knowledge, but you don't. You sometimes get things wrong, too, you know."

I want to jab my finger in the air and put the question to her, "Where are you in a parking garage? Huh? Nowhere, that's where. 'Accessing satellite,' my patoot! You're accessing nothing, that's what you're accessing. And then you blame me for turning the wrong way? 'Recalculating.' Recalculating? You never calculated in the first place. So you can't be recalculating, now, can you, little miss high-and-mighty."

But I don't say anything, because I know what her answer would be. Worse, I know how she would answer - with that put-out tone in her voice, that miffed put-uponness,as if everything that needs to be said could be said in one, huffily uttered word.

"Recalculating."

SOMETIMES I deliberately start a fight. I might, for example, drive past my destination on purpose. Does she say anything? Ask me what I am doing? Suggest I turn around?

No.

Silence.