"Every time you get in a mood to do outside work, you never leave me a clear path in the garage to get the trash/recycling bins out," I said. (Side note: I don't think we've had a car in the garage since we were married. It's a place to store junk when there's no more room in the house or basement. Or Hell.)
"Well..." she rebounded, "...every time you help me with a project, I have to clean up after you."
"That's simply not true," I objected.
"Ha! Oh yes it is!"
"No, it's not," I calmly stated. "Because I don't help much with your projects any more. My back and knees, you know." (My go-to "get-out-of-jail-free" card.)
"And every time you cook," she continued, "I spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning up the mess after you," she fearlessly lobbed back at me.
"Yeah? Well, every time you go shopping, our living room looks like an Amazon warehouse," I countered.
"Fine," she said, "but every time you open stuff, you leave your trash laying on the counter or a table."
Hmmm. I have to admit, she had me there. But I ain't nothin' if not an underdog and who doesn't love a come-back? I thought long and hard and came up with this non-sequitur gem of Trumpian proportions: "Well...every time you kvetch at me, an angel dies!"
Case closed, another win!
Speaking of total nonsense, check out my comic thriller, Chili Run. Beyond the rather *ahem* disturbing title, it's based on a dream I had where I was forced by bad guys to run across downtown Kansas City to retrieve a bowl of chili. Naturally, in nothing but my tighty-whities, a recurring nightmare that a lot of guys are familiar with. You can find Chili Run here, the perfect thriller for the reader on the go.
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