Had a fight (the talking kind, not the hitting kind) with the missus last night. As usual, we were both tired, exhausted, and working on not enough sleep. That happens when you have 3 kids, 2 under the age of three, and most nights we navigate around being mentally and physically whipped. Like most of our "fights", it started with me acting like moron at something innocent she said, which caused her to snap(it was justified snapping).
Anyway, typical of me, she tried to end it while I had to keep going, causing her to look at one point like Nolan Ryan did after his little dust up with Robin Ventura back in the day. If you don't remember this one, Ryan had plunked Ventura, who proceeded to charge the mound like Santa Anna at the Alamo. 40+ year old Ryan drops his glove, puts Ventura, some 20 years his Jr., in a headlock, and proceeds to give this punk about 7 or 8 punches to the head. Ventura never landed a shot, and after it was over there stood Ryan, red faced and trying to catch his breath. Angie looked JUST like that. Well, only WAY hotter than Ryan, but you get the point.
Everytime we have one of these little brouhahas, I try to compare it to a baseball fight. Yep, I'm fully aware I have a sickness, but it's all right. I've accepted it, you should too. Most of our arguments end up like most fights in baseball: a lot of standing around, pointing at each other and shouting the occasional random insult. We have never reached the Fisk vs. Munson battles like the one pictured at the top. Occasionally we get to the "I'm gonna charge the mound and try to tackle him, all the while hoping the catcher is gonna knock me down, we'll roll around a little, and then I'll act like I'm REALLY trying to break away from this 78 year old pitching coach holding me back" type fight.
Once, and only once, did we reach the "Pedro throws Zimmer to the ground and ignites WWIII " level. As usual, it was me being a moron, her TRYING to stop the thing, and me bound and determined I was gonna have my say. I'm not gonna reveal the reason for the fight: gotta keep SOME things private. Let's just say the end result was I slept on the couch for 2 straight nights. Like I said, those are as rare as Haley's Comet, and for the most part, we resolve things pretty quick.
A wise man once told us "Never go to bed angry" and in 14 years of marriage, both of us have tried to follow that advice. Even when she/I am NOT the cause of the argument, invariably we will apologize and kiss and make up. OK, most of the time it's my fault, and I know when I'm being a doofus, so I'll break the ice and give in. I love my wife, and am aware of the fact that I married up. WAY up.
I love my wife. And I know she loves me. Life is NOT like it is in the movies, and people argue and say stupid things. OK, I say stupid things and she puts up with me. We may argue and fuss, but I know she has my back. I'm just glad my wife is on MY side.
'Cause she ain't Posada. Or Munson.
She is Fisk.
Or better yet, she is Tek.
Only a WHOLE lot prettier.