Wire Crossings

Scott and I are both practically perfect in every way.  Therefore, our marriage is perfect.  If we WERE to ever get in a fight, however, it would always play out like this:  1.  There is a disagreement about something mundane.  2.  There is a heated conversation. 3.  I realize that Scott is delusional and he realizes I am impossible to live with.  4.  One or both of us have to leave to take a kid somewhere.  The end.

The interesting part comes later when we talk about the disagreement.  Invariably, there are two versions of what happened:  mine, which is accurate, impassive and factual and Scott's, which is completely fabricated and always contains the phrase, "I was just asking a question" and the pious pronouncement, "I wasn't in a fight."  It is during these argument disseminations that Scott and I have learned the delicate art of communication.  I will admit, in days of yore, some of these theoretical debates ended in someone calling someone else a mean name, followed by a cooling off period and a realization that the person you just called a dumb-something is your favorite person in the world, and the world would be a sagging, ugly place without him - or her. OK, fine, him.

Never fear, all you proponents of marriage.  Scott and I have made great strides in the not-arguing department.  Last time we didn't get into an argument (over the location of a cable jack), it all ended with this text detente:

Circe:  Just for the record, at no time while we weren't in a fight did I freak out.
Scott:  At no time during our non fight did I allege that you didn't not freak out due to our fight after not fighting.
Circe:  You're just trying to confuse me with legal jargon.
Scott:  Res judicata.

You know what else has already been decided?  That no matter where the Comcast guy puts his wires, ours will always be tangled together.  I just hope one of us doesn't get electrocuted along the way.