"Is this thing clean?" I was bent over, about to pull the dishwasher drawer out to find a sippy cup for the baby.
"I don't know." she responded distractedly glancing over her shoulder at me from the computer.
"No." I slid the drawer back in the clearly full dishwasher, shut the door and started to walk away, wondering why she wasn't running it.
"You're not going to start it?" she asked me incredulously over the wailing sounds the baby was making.
"No. What? I mean…" I floundered while she stared at me resentfully. "Well you didn't start it when you filled it so…."
"When I filled it? Who says I finished it?" she asked and we were frozen there for a long moment, staring at one another. I wondered how to make it out of this without a fight, wondered how long it would be until she was herself again.
"Fine." I made a big show of retrieving a soap package, placing it in the little compartment and starting the wash cycle. What was the big deal about the dishwasher anyway?
"Fine." she went back to her search on google.
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