"I did," she responds, turning to look squarely at me.

I look straight ahead, as if the rain requires my complete attention.

"You did?"

"Yes," she says. "I did."

"When?"

"When? All morning, that's when."

"You could have just told me no," I say, sounding meek, like a little boy who knows he made a mistake but can't own up to it.

"At a certain point, it just doesn't seem worth it," she says. "Besides, I thought you really wanted to. I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Wanted to? Why would I want to? It's raining. The drive is a hassle, it's time-­consuming, and I have a column not just due but overdue.

Oh.

Yeah.

The column.

She's right. I did want to. I'll use any excuse to avoid finishing a column. I've even washed the tub. So what is a senseless hour-and-a-half drive through a torrential downpour?

Still, that's not the point. The point is that she's getting a nice ride to the airport. Why wouldn't she want that?

Actually, I know why, because we've talked about the different preferences that people have for leaving on a trip. Some folks want to get their heads into the approaching travel day and avoid the hurried farewell in the car, so they prefer to relax in a taxi. Others want someone to take them to the airport. Still others want someone to go in and wait with them until the last possible minute.

A friend of mine adds a complicating factor. He says that a husband must take his wife, despite her protests, if there is any conceivable way for him to do so, and especially in inclement weather, or he risks hearing about it during a wholly unrelated argument years later. My pal may be right. But this isn't years later. I've got to make amends now or risk putting another notch in the everything belt.