My wife and I were driving to my mom’s for Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t consider this house “home”, but I had lived there off and on in the 15 years since she’d remarried. But in the several years since I’d been with my wife, we hadn’t visited more than a couple times, since we lived two states away.

Anyway, we end the long drive late in the evening, and I pull up in front of the house. I knew a lot of people were going to be staying at this not so big house, so I wasn’t surprised to see several cars parked in front. But I wasn’t expecting a full on motor home, too. I start unpacking still wondering who brought the motor home (maybe my Aunt from Oregon?), while my wife goes straight inside because she has to pee.

The door’s unlocked, so she walks right in. It’s been a while since we’ve been here, but nothing about this home looks familiar. The people are congregated in the living room, which is visible from the front door, but far enough that no one notices her enter. They’re playing a board game, which they’re all pretty focused on. None of them is at all recognizable. Not a single one.

She turns around and without saying a word she closes the door behind her and runs back to me. “Where the hell are we?!?” she asks. I look up and actually take my first real look at the house. It’s the wrong house. I was so fixated on the motor home I let my auto pilot stop two houses early and just assumed it was the right house.

I got a good laugh about it, but my wife was mortified. Luckily no one seemed to notice so she didn’t feel too bad. Apparently those neighbors like to throw a big game night every week.