This expression has a new meaning to me since last week Chris used one of my dish towels to clean up some milk that was spilled during a failed attempt at a smoothie. (We really need to figure out how to use our blender!) Warnings of using anything other than a sponge or paper towel to clean up milk had fallen on deaf ears, and it was difficult not to say "I told you so" when we came home one day to a very smelly house....which after some detective work led us to the laundry basket holding the very smelly dish towel.
So, I have always thought that marital problems caused by trivial issues such as whether or not the toilet seat is up or down, or if the toothpaste is squeezed out properly (just as a side note, Chris is a gentleman in both areas, squeezing from the bottom of the toothpaste tube and always leaving both the toilet seat and the toilet cover down) were immature, but somehow I found myself arguing with Chris in my head over the fact that the battle of saving the smelly dish towel would probably be lost since it would probably make the rest of our laundry smell terrible too.
As I was clinging onto the hope of saving my dish towel, Chris sensibly suggested throwing it away and buying a new one. It took a few minutes for me to realize that he was right, and after all, this was just a dish towel. I'm pretty sure you can buy three dish towels for a dollar at the dollar store.
How foolish of me to let something so trivial almost cause an argument with my best friend. I thought I was more mature than that!
Later that night Chris mentioned that the sponge smelled bad.....I immediately threw it away.