We're driving back to the parking garage to drop off the Zipcar after a long evening at Ikea, and tempers are wearing thin.
"I need you to try to be patient," I say, after Katie snaps at me about the address I'm entering into the phone to get driving directions.
I hear her audibly breathe, calming herself, and then say, "Okay, could you please look at the Zipcar app for the address?"
"It wasn't on there, alright?" I bristle.
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