The Panic Button is on the Right

I’m in a hotel. Yesterday, while I managed a few deadlines, a few kids, a few jobs and a few errands, Joe caught on to my plan.  My plan was, even though I’m driving to Squam by myself this year, with nobody to share the driving, I was still going to leave at 6am this morning and power through the ten hour drive, all by my lonesome. I’d made this decision to be thrifty and to have more time at home before I left.  I’d also made this decision despite being really super averse to long drives alone.  I think it’s because there’s no knitting.  I listen to audiobooks to pass the time, but it’s just not the same, and after a few hours I’m bored to the point of exhaustion.  I get out, walk around, and drink so much coffee that by the end of the day I can totally feel my hair growing, but I still find it a lot of work to stay alert.  If I’m in the car with anyone else, I can drive forever, but if it’s just me, then it’s about five hours before I’m loudly singing songs with the windows thrown open.  (These are not any particular songs.  I make up the lyrics.  They usually go something like "Oh, why am I still in this ca-ar, and how long until it is ov-er! This is too far to dri-ive, and I hope I can stay a-live"  Admit it. You wish you were a wordsmith like me.)

Anyway, he was somewhere in the house, upstairs while I was down, and when I told him I was going to drive the whole way today, he shouted down that he didn’t think I should do that because of the Priory Mash.  

"The what?" I shouted.  "I should worry about the Priory what?"
"NO" he called. "The Friary Clash!"  This was all starting to sound odd, but although Joe is not religious now, he was raised Catholic, and educated by Jesuits, so sometimes he says stuff about Monks and Nuns that I don’t quite follow, but I still couldn’t see why any Prioress or Friar would give any sort of a crap about when and how I drive to New Hampshire. Maybe it was a Holy Day of Obligation or something to do with a Saint.

"Not Priory – Friary?" I shouted.  Joe shouted something very much not to do with a Holy Day, and yelled something about how he didn’t want me to have something to do with a flash.  I thought it was rude of him to bring that up menopause right then, and said so.
"Listen to me" he yelled.  "You shouldn’t drive the whole way tomorrow because I am worried you will have a DIARY TRASH!"
"Diary Trash?"

I went upstairs. I stood in the door of our bedroom and said "Why can’t I go tomorrow? Is it something about a Monk? A rave? Did you read my journal? What are you talking about, and what does this have to do with the change?

Joe looked at me, and then repeated slowly "I do not think you should drive the whole way tomorrow, because I am worried that you will have a FIERY CRASH."

I split it into two drives.  Dude has a point. He is sort of fixated on Monks though.