Saturday morning, I got up early, dressed quietly, made my lunch, and slipped into the garage.
I hitched the boat to the van and started backing out—straight into a torrential downpour. Wind howling at 50 mph.
I sighed, pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and sure enough—the forecast called for a full day of miserable weather.
So, I went back inside, undressed just as quietly, and slid back into bed. Feeling a little lucky, I cuddled up to my wife and whispered, “The weather is awful out there.”
Still half-asleep, she murmured, “I know… and can you believe my idiot husband is out fishing in it?”
And that, my friends, is how the fight started.
