My wife is really smart.  I mean really, really smart.

The other day I was quietly reading a book that we recently picked up at a used bookstore and read a particularily alarming passage.  It was an account of the death of astronomer Tycho, who passed away when drank a bunch of wine at a party but he declined going to the restroom because he figured it would be rude to his hosts, and eventually his bladder exploded.  Ouch, I mean, ouch.  I remarked to my wife who was passing by, “Wow, that’s a really amazingly horrible way to die.”  Her response, “what, bladder explosion?”

I was flabbergasted.

Just from my relatively innocuous comment she deduced exactly what I was talking about.  She knew I was reading “Coming of Age in the Milky Way“, a nonfiction book about the history of astronomy, and I guess just assumed that there wouldn’t be many terrible deaths worth mentioning.  But still, leaping to the (correct) conclusion that I was referring to what I sure hope is an extremely rare condition like that?  Frigging amazing.