I have a conspiracy theory that sometimes Google Maps reroutes you purely to test how long the new route takes. Like if there's 4 possible routes between A and B, it might randomly take you down Route 3 just to compare to the fastest loop. The algorithm randomly assigns people to be guinea pigs so some days you might just randomly get a bad route as a test subject.

I told my GF this and she was unconvinced and thinks I'm just a bad driver since I wrecked my car last year by trying to drift so I'm not allowed to drive anymore. So I suggested that we test it by driving a back street we know is fastest and then comparing it to whatever Google Maps suggests.

She humoured me and we drove to Taco Bell (took 13 minutes) then home. And then again using Google Maps. It did take us a different route through 2 sets of lights and with a really hard turn onto a main street. Didn't get to Taco Bell though because we got T-boned by a Camry on the turn. An old lady was driving the other car and had an actual conniption, started yelling that we'd destroyed her car etc etc and tried to flag down an ambulance (it was a minor low speed crash - the ambulance looked at her and drove off). GF and I standing there like wtf have we done this old lady is gonna pop a gasket. Eventually calmed her down and exchanged insurance. Drove home in silence. Now GF has sworn off Google Maps so a minor win there

TLDR; Wanted to test my theory about Google Maps, took us a shit route and my GF crashed into another car. She's not gonna use google maps anymore tho

So, I got home from work around 8:30 in the morning. I put my stuff down, fed the dog, and sat down to join my wife in the livingroom as she watched YouTube. She offered to let me watch something, but I was fine watching whatever she wanted to watch.

I didn't say it, but my reasoning was that I didn't want to watch anything because I was most likely going to fall asleep after having been awake all night long.

She was watching courtroom judges berating dumb lawyers. It was pretty funny. I told her that I was fine watching whatever she wanted to watch.

I started falling asleep, which is something that just happens after a 10 hour overnight shift. I get up, take a shower, come back and sit down. She offers me the remote to watch whatever I want and again I said whatever she wanted was fine. She puts on a Game Grumps compilation. Cool, I like Game Grumps. I introduced her to them. We watch.

I start to fall asleep again. I fight to stay awake, but I'm losing the battle. She makes some coffee and I have a cup. She sat back down and again told me to watch what I wanted to.

It was here that I got frustrated and said "For the third time," and I held up 3 fingers like a jackass. "I'm fine. Watch what you want to."

She fell silent and retreated to he phone. I could hear her sniffling. She was crying. She left the living room and went up to the front room where she works from home. She told me not to go up there. She started watching YouTube on her work computer. Now I'm alone in the livingroom with the TV to myself and feeling like a complete dick.

TL, DR: Came home from work and sat down to watch TV. Wife offered to let me watch what I wanted 3 times. I got frustrated and let that frustration show when I said "For the third time..." and made her cry.

I'm sitting here in front of the washing machine, wondering how the fuck I got here. This fuck up happened approximately 30 minutes ago.

I had just successfully fixed the garage door; the guide wheel had popped out of the guide track and was causing the garage door to go up and down in a weird grinding manner. I was super proud and came upstairs from the basement and my wife had just finished walking the dog and came in the front door.

I greeted her, excited to brag to her about how I had just fixed the garage door. She handed me the poop bag and told me to toss it for her, and I put the dog poop to the side as I was telling her about how I fixed the garage door.

A fly appeared out of nowhere, on the wall right next to where we were talking. I've dealt with a lot of flies before, and I'm actually really good at killing them. The key is the flick of the wrist. You need to swing fast and hard and just slap down on the fly with a vengeance so you can make contact before it bolts away.

I lined up my hand and was about to execute, when she yelled at me, "Ew don't use your hand!" I looked around and saw her flip flop near the door, and she was like, "Just use the poop bag."

I picked up the little green poop bag, lined up my shot, and slapped the shit out of that fly. When the bag made impact with the wall, it burst open. Shit flew everywhere. It sprayed on my face, it got in my hair, it was on the floor, it was on the wall. When I looked down, a big chunk was just in the center of my shirt, and it was on my jeans.

I stood there in disbelief, as my wife burst out laughing. My two young sons were just rounding the corner and watched it happened, and they started rolling on the floor crying in laughter. Everyone was laughing and having a great time, as I stood there wondering what the fuck had just happened.

I took a shower, then realized that my only work appropriate jeans had dog shit on them, so I went downstairs to do some laundry.

As I sit here in front of my washing machine, I am still left wondering.

Did I even kill the fly?

TL;DR Tried to kill a fly with my hand, my wife said to use the dog poop bag and I smashed the bag into the wall and it burst open and got dog poop everywhere. The worst part is, I still don't know if I even killed the fly.

Edit: Woke up this morning and saw how many upvotes this got and showed my wife. She got upset that people are going to think she’s an idiot for suggesting the poop bag, so I need to add some context.

In her defense, she thought the fly was one of those slow moving halfway dead flies, and she was expecting me to just smoosh the fly with the bag and then throw it away.

In my defense, I was preoccupied and beaming with pride about how I just fixed the garage door. So when I was presented with my foe, the fly, I went into fight mode without thinking and just attacked.

It did not process in my mind how fragile the doggie poop bag was. I just assumed it was like a ziploc bag.

I really wasn’t thinking because I just saved hundreds of dollars by not having to call the garage door guy.

Update:

1. Kids were still laughing about it this morning, so a core memory was probably unlocked.

2. Garage door was moving beautifully this morning when I left for the office. A redditor said he just spent $422 to fix his garage door, so I confirmed I just saved a shitload of money.

3. Life status of the fly, still unknown, but I’m optimistic he’s dead.

Overall, life is good.