A sequel to the last post. This target: husband.
I really can't remember the details, but it was bedtime, and I was furious! I also remember, whatever my husband did to make me mad, he was more than aware of, and apparently quite willing to agree.
However, he thought a simple apology would do it. So I got the old basic type. Then he rolled over, and instantaneously began to snore. Meanwhile I stewed on my side of the bed.
This was not over.
So, I poked him awake. Told him how and why he ticked me off. He apologized again, rolled over and began to snore.
So, I poked him again. This went on about six times! Seriously.
If he could fall asleep that easily, he really wasn't getting the just of my anger: he really did get or care why I was THAT mad.
So, I poked him again. This time he turned on the light, sat up, looked right at me, and said:
"Okay. I'm listening."
Then, he ruined it, by adding:
"Well, I better get this over with. It's my fault. I screwed up, and I'm never going to get some sleep if I don't let you yell at me."
Actually, I laughed. It wasn't really funny. I was still mad and probably should have been insulted. But the truth is, he called me out. When I am really, really angry, (See: Why Can't I Just Shut Up.) I don't shut up. It's like a broken dam. Water furiously rushing out, cutting, carving, barreling with angry menace, until finally the water becomes part of the quiet flowing stream. And life hopefully returns to normal.