I thought her clutter was unnecessary and threw it out. She was enraged, but I stayed cool, even telling her that I’d kept her pink frying pan. That night, she handed me an envelope with a tally of everything she’d thrown away. I took it and went upstairs, returning with her precious items still intact. “I thought you said you threw it out?”
she asked, confused. I smiled and handed it back to her, saying, “I packed it up and put it somewhere safe. Just like you did with my things.” As the tension simmered, my son looked on, impressed by my calm handling of the situation. “Wow,” he said quietly. “You really don’t mess around.”With a smile, I replied, “Sweetheart, never touch a woman’s kitchen.”