There is nothing like moving house to bring out the utter nastiness in a relationship. A wise friend once remarked that we often treat strangers and mere acquaintances better than we do loved ones, because implicit in close relationships is a sense of entitlement.
We're having some issues with ID cards at work, so we can't get on base, we can't drive because our licenses have expired and we have been stuck in the house for five days. We have been cleaning and doing prep-work but our nerves are frayed (one individual more so than the other - can you guess who?). Here we revisit the age old battle of "Can't Find It":
"Jodi, what did you do with [my Oakley] sunglass..." (in the foyer)
"I didn't do anything with them!" (growling from upstairs)
"Well, where did they go then!" (exasperated but civil)
"Well, they didn't just fucking evaporate!" (nasty sotto voce, slamming of laundry baskets, boxes of shoes, etc)
Turns out I thought the bagged sunglasses were MY Oakleys and I packed them up.
I'm sorry, Chris.
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