Last week, a colleague asked “have you had any ‘wow, we’re married‘ moments?”
“Hmm,” I thought, “no, I don’t think so. None that I can really remember.”
And then, a night or two later, I had one.
I had gone to bed at 7:22pm because I wasn’t feeling well and was tired from a bachelorette party the weekend before. At 8:30pm I wake up to a crash and Mike screaming profanity.
I run to the kitchen to see what’s happened. Mike is standing at the sink holding a bleeding pinky. There’s a broken wine glass in the sink.
I stepped in to clean up the glass and finish the rest of the dishes.
I felt terrible.
Earlier that night, I started doing the dishes but I was so tired, I didn’t finish. The now-broken wine glass was sitting on the sink waiting to be washed but I stopped right before getting to the wine glass. If I had taken 30 seconds to wash that wine glass, Mike wouldn’t have cut his finger.
As I finished the dishes, feeling guilty and made at myself, and knowing that Mike was probably mad at me and blamed me for his injury, I thought “yep, I feel married.”
I apologized to Mike a lot saying that it was my fault he hurt this finger. He assured me that it wasn’t my fault.
The next morning Mike admitted that while he was doing the dishes and just seconds before the glass broke, he was mad at me.