After I Broke My Leg, My Husband Refused to Drive Our Kids to School Because He ‘Couldn’t Be Late for Work’ – Then I Caught Him Picking up His Young, Pretty Coworker, so I Taught Him a Lesson

“Today passed inappropriate around 8:30.”

She laughed.

Then stopped.

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Harold talks about you at work.”

My fingers stopped sorting a sock.

“What does he say?”

That sentence never improves anybody’s afternoon.

“He says you’re very particular.”

“Everything, I guess.”

I waited.

Adele continued.

“He says he tries to help at home, but you usually redo things, so you’ve both learned it’s easier if you handle the house and he handles other stuff.”

I stared at the laundry basket.

I remembered the school bag he’d once packed with three toys, no homework, and a yogurt without a spoon. Another time, he’d jammed a wooden cutting board against the dishwasher’s spray arm. Each time, I’d fixed it.

Eventually, I stopped asking because correcting the same things took longer than doing them.