Adding a third wheel makes for a bit of a bumpy ride

I walked into the garage and the interior light had been left on.

Now, this might be a random act of forgetfulness on my husband’s part, but to me it was an act of war.

The Battle Royale that has been raging within my household is subtle and nuanced. But it’s there. Oh, it’s there.

After a summer of impatiently waiting for my single motherhood to end, I never expected the aggravation of having to re-acclimate to living with my husband.

“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” my husband asked after two nights back home.

“I dunno,” I answered. “I was just going to polish off that bag of cheese popcorn in the cabinet. But I guess we could get all fancy with real food.”

The next day, he had the nerve to say the sheets needed to be washed.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think they’re fine.”

“There’s enough cat hair on the bedspread to knit a sweater,” he replied.

“I could use a new piece for my fall collection,” I said.

Highlighting my shortcomings is not a good strategy for him, as I take pride in the fact that I did not have a complete nervous breakdown while he was gone. Perhaps while he was away, he forgot the cardinal rule of “Never Criticize Thy Bedraggled Spouse.”

But it’s the habits we each have that have proven to be the real rub.

My husband, with all of his wonderful qualities, is set in his ways. He has a natural walk that I can only describe as a stomp, and manages to do the loudest things he can think of right when the baby drifts off to sleep. He leaves all the lights on in the house, no matter the time of day or the level of natural illumination. He has “a system” to do everything from dishes to laundry to vacuuming, which of course differs from my way.

It’s been a long week of stepping all over each other, especially when getting him adjusted to the baby’s schedule — the most important schedule in the house.

So when I saw that light left on in the garage, I did what any normal, rational person would do. I unscrewed the light bulb.