I was reading Vanity Fair yesterday evening (I think I can call it yesterday evening, since it's 12.30am or so) and the girls were all in their jammies and had eaten dinner and were occupied with various things. I expected Archie home at any time because he had kajukenbo class. The phone rang. I went into the kitchen to answer it and it was Archie.
"Hi, it's me. My ride had a late meeting and I'm not going to make it home anytime soon..."
[At this point, I walk over to the sink so I can throw something I picked up off the floor in the trash and there is yogurt all over the rug in front of the sink.]
"Oh, God damn it!"
"I'm really sorry -- but Marty is stuck in a meeting..."
"Honey, I'm not upset at you. We're all fine; everything is under control. It's just that there's yogurt on the floor..."
"I told you the kids have to eat at the table."
"They did! But one of them threw away a yogurt container and spilled some on the floor. Why did we have kids again? Remind me?"
"Because it's fulfilling."
"Oh, yeah. Right. Just not so much right this very moment."
[And then the rest of the evening was terrific and the girls were silly and fun. But still and all -- the yogurt on the floor was not a welcome addition to my day.]