y brother in law is a good guy. Really. A great guy, even. He’s the one I head for at family events. I’d invite him to a party or out for a drink, if either of us went to parties or had time to go out for a drink. He’s interesting and smart and just a genuinely nice guy.

But fuck, man. Listening to him argue with my wife is like actual fucking torture. He’s way too smart, he’s got a response for everything, he’s stubborn as fuck, and he pushes every one of her buttons without even trying.

And the two of them argue a lot. As in every time they talk, which is at least once a week. And it’s always on speaker while she makes dinner. I mean, why not on AirPods? And why do they keep calling each other on Monday afternoons when it always devolves into this? And why are they doing it today of all days, when, after the afternoon I had, I need just five minutes to think?

And the mood Ali would be in when they hung up. Fuck that.

Today it was that Chinese virus and how Jesse thought we should all wear masks and gloves to keep it from spreading.

“You g’head,” Ali answered. “Let us know how Charlie likes wearing his mini sterile gloves to baby gymnastics.”

“Actually, we pulled both of the kids from school and everything. Last week. Shit’s about to get crazy. Seriously.”