Mr. Pitsberger and I have been arguing about the placement of his insanely huge grill on our smallish back porch. I suggested we move it to the open side with the steps, where it is still covered by the roof, so we have the larger side for a table and chairs. He disagrees. He doesn't want it to get "splashed by the rain." I sighed and rolled my eyes at this statement.
So he said, "I know you're used to getting your own way and having things the way you like them. Every once in a while you run into the brick wall that is the husband. Then you turn him to jelly with pussy and guilt trips."
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