I woke up to either a cold draft of wind going through the house, or a strange knock on the door. Of course, it was my wife, knocking on the door to get back into the house. She was on a business trip, so technically, in our relationship, she was the man, I was the housewife. I put on a robe, turned on the lights and unlocked the door. I hugged her, kissed her, and then, she pulled away.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You didn't answer my calls." She replied.
"What calls," I asked, "I didn't get a single call from you."
She sighed. It was the My-Husband-Is-Being-A-Complete-Douchebag-And-Wouldn't-Answer-My-Calls- sigh.
"Well, I didn't."
"Check your phone." She said and began to unpack.
I checked my phone and saw fifty calls in between two hours, all the voicemails stating she needed a ride home.
"Well, I was asleep," I said. "Do you expect me to wake up at anytime in the night when I have to get up in the morning, feed the kids, clean the house, what else do you need me to do?"
She slapped me and walked away to the bedroom. She walked back with two pillows and a blanket. She pointed to the couch and didn't say another word.
"I'M THE STAY AT HOME WIFE AND YOU'RE THE HUSBAND!" I yelled. She peeped her head out of the bedroom door and gave me a middle finger. I just did it right back, and went to lay on the couch.
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