Sometimes she can really get going with the talking and all the talking can really make me feel like I'm being buried alive, especially when she's talking all through my need to go do something else that would require me to be out of earshot (free!).

Oftentimes just waiting out the deluge is not a viable option, but then again, oftentimes it is my only option, because we honestly don't see each other that often-I work nights, she works days-and I understand, theoretically, that there are many things that come up throughout our respective days we might have need to discuss. But in practice, the fact that she is so detail-oriented (and she remembers all of the details and she likes to tell all the details that she remembers) and I am so silence-oriented means that we often find ourselves at odds, even if she doesn't know it. I am not, after all, suicidal or particularly inclined to divorce; derailing an essentially necessary conversation by grunting with displeasure at the necessity of the conversation is just rude and stupid, despite the fact that she talks so much it feels like she's wrapping up my face with plastic wrap.

I was in the kitchen, listening at her from the living room-"Uh huh. Yeah. Right. I concur!"-practically PACING (I'm too lazy to actually pace) with desperation to get outside to smoke the cigarette I allow myself to smoke after my children have gone to bed and I am drinking my into slumber when I did this thing that she was not meant to see me do: I mouthed "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" my fists waving in the air. Only, she could see my reflection in a suddenly inconveniently placed window (damn you nighttime, making mirrors of windows!).

"Why are you mad at me?" she asked.

"Hahahaha (gulp) you saw that? How did you see that? You weren't supposed to see that."

"I saw you in the window. Really, what's your problem?"

"Fuck, why were you looking out the window while you were talking to me? You weren't supposed to see that, sorry. It's just, sometimes you talk a lo-"

"Goodnight."

"Oh."

Now, correct me if I'm wrong (by which I mean any and all dissenters will be shunned so tread carefully), but, isn't being upset a trifle unreasonable? Had I not been betrayed by that Benedict Arnold of a DICK window, she'd be none the wiser. Right?