My wife and I had a big fight this morning.
Last night, I complained about her cooking only one meal a day, which was dinner.
I noted, not for the first time, that when I served in the U.S. Navy on the aircraft carrier USS Kitty Hawk during the Vietnam War, we were served three full meals a day, plus MIDRATS (midnight rations).
My wife suggested, somewhat forcefully, that I rejoin the Navy.
She went to be bed mad, and I retreated to my basement den and fell asleep in the recliner.
The next morning, she came downstairs and woke me cheerfully holding a tray that held my breakfast.
The breakfast smelled great, but I ruined the mood and the meal by complaining.
You see, the breakfast tray held coffee, orange juice, and a plate of bacon and eggs.
But the breakfast tray lacked toast, and I was intolerant.
