Ugg. That would cause a divorce in my house.
I do have a wife story, involving bees and a general stiff neck about things she admits to not understanding. It generally goes like this:
Wife: "I don’t understand how X works. Will you fix X?
Me: “Sure.” Proceed to fix X
Wife: “Don’t fix X that way! It needs to go this way! Why are you doing that!? I heard on Oprah that X needs to be done this way!”
Me: “If you know better how to do it, here is the tool.”
Wife: “No! I don’t know how to do it.”
Me: Proceed to fix X, just as I planned, except extra aggravated.
Wife: “I solemnly swear I won’t butt in again about stuff I admittedly know nothing about, until the next time I butt in again.”
Oh, the bees:
This just happened, except I was standing on a porch surrounded by a swarm of bees, fixing X. She is inside the house.
I yell, “close the window, there’s bee!”
Wife: “Why should I close the window? How can you reach X? You need to be able to reach X!”
Me (yelling): “Close the fucking window, there’s bee!”
Wife: “There’s no need to yell at me!”
Me (getting stung) “Close the fucking window, I am in a swarm of bee!”
Wife: “There are bees? Where?”
Me (getting stung more): “Fucking God, woman, close the fucking window!”
Wife: Closes the window.
Me: Fix X. Come inside.
Wife “We need to talk. There is no need to yell at me.”
Me (calmly considering methods of murder I learned on the ID channel): “Where is the after sting care?”
