Why do we fight about the dumbest things?
Scene: 10 p.m. in the Dangelico living room, the original "X-Men" is on TV. Husband and wife and (spoiled) dog cuddle together on the couch under a Steelers blanket. Suddenly, and without warning, wife perks up and says: "Where is the iPhone cord? I need to charge my phone."
Neither the couple nor the dog is ever seen again.
Just kidding, but really. No one could guess (except I probably could have) that what was to follow for the next 20 minutes would be a court-room style argument, both sides fervently pleading their case, declaring without a shadow of a doubt that the other is wrong.
"You HAD to have moved it, I would bet 8 million dollars that it is on your desk at work."
"8 million dollars? You are SO DRAMATIC."
"I wouldn't have to be if you would just put the iPhone cord back where you found it!"
"Where is the one that was here yesterday?"
"Haven't you been listening to ANYTHING I've been saying, counselor, I mean, dear?"
"You shouldn't even be on your phone. We're watching a movie!"
"Well sor-ry that people LOVE me!"
(You have no idea who said what, do you?)
It gets pretty bad sometimes. It often threatens to ruin our night, and many times it is clear that neither of us believes we have done anything wrong and therefore refuse to give in. But, one of us always does. Or maybe neither of us ever does, but somehow our stern facades are eventually broken down into laughter with the use of a funny face or an inside joke.
And even though they are basically harmless (save for a few benign name-callings) I always find myself wondering afterward why we even fought about it in the first place. We trust each other completely, we have gotten pretty good at understanding where the other is coming from and how to communicate with each other—we've got the big stuff down. I guess it's just that the missing cords, the spilled dog food, the wet towels are all we have left to make a case over.
I guess it's just those little, everyday frustrations that have a way of getting to you, keeping you from being able to enjoy a warm, quiet evening on the couch. We blame it on each other, on the desire to have someone to point to for all the ways the day has let you down. Regardless, we get over it. We let each other off the hook.
Most of the time, anyway, we just blame it all on Rooney.