Conversation with my husband as I zip through Milan's periferia in my small black Italian car:
Him: Whoa! You almost hit the guy on the motorbike.
Me: Well, of course I almost hit him. He pulled out in front of me! I'm driving the correct speed limit and he's driving almost double that. And had the audacity to cut me off. I was in the right.
Him: But you should have slowed down. It's not about right or wrong.
Me: It is about right or wrong. I was right and I had the right of way.
Him: Would it have been right to kill him?
Me: Cazzi suoi (that's his own damn problem). Maybe he had a death wish.
Him: It's about common sense...
Me: Of which the motorbiker obviously had none.
My husband goes silent. A silence that says "There's no way I'm going to win this one with her so it's better if I just shut up."
The next day as I drive along the same road, I'm alone. On the morning radio show they are talking about how the pope has recently said it isn't right to have sex before marriage. One of the hosts of the radio show (an American woman) says something like "Right or wrong? Who is it that makes the rules on what is right or wrong?"
Damn straight!, I think.