When spouse wants to argue -- hello, doily!

My husband and I were having an argument.
I will never understand how someone who I love with all my heart one minute can be so downright, absolutely, unequivocally irritating the next.
It started when he contracted a sniffle. (OK, so maybe it was a full-fledged cold.) He declared himself out of commission.
"You'll have to take Dave to soccer practice," he informed me, as he lay curled up on the couch.
On a normal, good day, I would not have said a word. I would have taken the child to practice and not thought a thing of it. But it had been a long, hard day and I was in no mood to add to my list of things I needed to do. I had been running around all day. I still had dinner to make. And, perhaps the greatest source of my irritability, I had been looking forward to an hour without a 6-year-old underfoot.
And so, it begins:first, Round One
Irritation boiled in my soul. Round One was about to begin.
"Oh, come on!" I said, trying to be nice but unable to hide the edge in my voice.
Having been married forever, Pat can instantly sense my edginess.
"I am sick," he proclaimed. "You don't know how sick I am."
I never know "how sick" my husband is -- and I have never managed to ever be as sick as he is.
"You have a sniffle!" I began raising my voice. "Just get up and take him. The fresh air will do you good!"
"I am sick!" he yelled from the living room as I tromped into the kitchen.
"Sick ..." I mumbled to myself. "Well, I'm sick, too ... sick and tired! ... I have worked when I was a lot sicker than you. ... Try having a baby then tell me how sick you are. ..."
I continued mumbling to myself as son David came into the kitchen.
"Where's Dad?" he asked innocently. I pointed to the couch.
A few moments later, he returned with a happy smile on his face. "You're taking me to practice, Mom?"
Through gritted teeth, I attempted a smile ... "Yes."
As David walked away, I stomped into the living room for Round Two.
Round One always involves the matter at hand. Round Two encompasses history.
"Isn't this the child I said could wait a year before playing sports?" I began the history lesson. "Didn't I say we were busy enough without another thing? But you signed him up, and now who's left holding the bag?"
"Don't take him then," Pat answered simply.
Round Threeand beyond
That, of course, started Round Three.
The third round of an argument never has anything to do with the actual point of contention. If fact, Round Three can go so far from what the argument is about that it can be difficult to remember what was being argued in the first place.
So, that's what we did until I left with David for practice.
When I returned home, Pat and I said nothing to each other.
The next morning, he snubbed me on the way into the bathroom, and I snubbed him on my way out.
We were quite the example of mature, reasonable adults.
On my way to work, I came across an e-mail my friend had sent me. With a chuckle, I called my arch enemy. ...
"There's this man and woman and they fall in love and get married," I recount the story over the phone to a silent listener. "They share a wonderful life together, but the husband is never allowed to look in this shoe box in the closet. Finally, the wife is on her death bed and she tells her husband to bring down the shoe box. Inside there are two crocheted doilies and $25,000."
Continuing the story, I say "The wife told her husband she crocheted a doily every time they argued. The husband is pleased there are only two doilies in the box. Then he asks about the $25,000."
"She tells him that's the money from all the doilies she sold!" I laugh over the phone.
Still not ready to move on from our argument, Pat replies, "I heard that story before."
I respond simply, "Well, I'm taking up crocheting!"
gwhite@vindy.com