You: Hey hon! Just wondering when you’re getting home, I was thinking we’d do tacos or—

Him: Wendy, let me explain something to you. Whenever you call me here and interrupt me, you’re breaking my concentration. You’re distracting me. And it will then take me time to get back to where I was. You understand?

You: Woah, calm down, I—

Him: Now, we’re going to make a new rule. When you call me here and you hear me typing [types] or whether you don’t hear me typing, or whatever the fuck you hear me doing; when I’m here, it means that I am working, that means don’t call. Now, do you think you can handle that?

You: Wait, did you call me Wendy?

Him: Have you ever had a single moment’s thought about my responsibilities? Does it matter to you at all that the owners have placed their complete confidence and trust in me, and that I have signed a letter of agreement—

You: You know what? Forget it. We’ll go with tacos. Sorry to bother you.

Him: —a contract in which I have accepted that responsibility?

You: Mmmm hmmm.

Him: Do you have the slightest idea what a moral and ethical principal is? Do you? Has it ever occurred to you what would happen to my future—

You: Oh my God forget it!

Him: —if I were to fail to live up to my responsibilities? Has it ever occurred to you? Has it?

You: You’re not the only one who’s busy, you know. I have to take Danny to the dentist about that thing in his mouth.

Him: You are the caretaker, aren’t you?

You: Yeah, I get it. I’m getting in an elevator here so I might lose you. Hey can you plow the driveway when you get home? Oh and tampons—I’m about to get my period, so if you could pick up some tampons that would be great. Thanks!

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Jenny Krueger is a freelance writer living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her work has appeared in Revolver, The Evening Street Review, Front Porch Journal, and elsewhere. She was awarded a mentorship at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 2014.