Sitting at the kitchen counter this morning, blissfully sipping my coffee while playing a quick game of FIFA 11 on the iPhone when wife comes storming up from the basement.
‘Look at this, look, look,’ she says, holding up some pink clothing.
‘Very nice, very nice,’ I say, using my default response when asked about her daily fashion decisions.
‘Look at the color, you idiot! These used to be white. They are supposed to be white.’
‘And?’
‘Your cheap-ass soccer t-shirt ran in the wash,’ she shouts, holding up my red ‘Nothing shapes character like winning' tee in her other hand.
'Well,' I say, 'that’s your own fault. If you hadn’t made me do my own laundry, this never would have happened.'
I thought that was a reasonable enough response. She didn’t. Standing right there in the kitchen, she ripped the t-shirt in two, threw it on the floor and brazenly marched out the front door. She has no respect at all for other people's property.
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