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I had a bit of a hard conversation with my wife yesterday. I delayed writing about it here, but I've committed to detailing the smooth and the crunchy aspects of this strange journey I'm on, and this one was a bit crunchy.  The argument stemmed from my glancing at my phone while she was talking to me; there is a common phenomenon among couples that she and I experience, and it goes along these lines: I spend all day in meetings, with employees and managers and customers, dealing with issues big and small, and fending off a snowstorm of emails between the meetings, and after 10 hours of that, my brain feels cooked. I want to eat dinner, watch some nerdy video on YouTube, doom-scroll the news, or otherwise generally turn most sectors in my brain off. She can have stressful days at work as well, there is no argument about that, and she is also the cruise director for a lot of my daughters' educational and recreational requirements, although that workload is not what it used to be, now that they are both at an age where they can legally drive.   But, her job is of a more intermittent nature - she works from home, usually, and as often as not, if I go over to the house at 3 or 4 in the afternoon, to grab a cup of tea or whatever, she might be taking a nap, or cutting up vegetables for dinner, while watching a show, usually one involving British people baking. Later, I stumble back from my office, with steam coming out of my ears, and all I want to do is not think for a bit. Which is often the first time we've seen each other since yesterday when we turned out the lights - I'm usually up before she is, and have often had my coffee and strapped into my office chair, by the time she gets up.  Ergo, she wants to download whatever she has on her mind, to me - it could be arcane details about what my younger daughter is supposed to be working on for homework, or something related to her business, as it intersects with our finances, or she starts telling me that I need to remember something that I'm not going to remember, unless she puts it in a text or an email, so I can put it in my calendar, and in the meantime I have my video about axial flow motors or a crumbling dam in India on pause, or I'm trying to keep my place in an article about modular nuclear reactors. I'm a dork, I get it.  So, there is already a disconnect - specifically, I want to disconnect, and she wants to connect. Then, add to that, that I happened to get a text from a buddy that required a one-emoji response, a thumbs-up - "Hey, are we going to go do that thing later this week?" (👍).  So, I looked away from her, and away from my dinner, to tap out a one-symbol response, just to get that off my plate, and she threw a hissy fit. Now, yes, I agree, particularly as a person who lives with teenaged children, that preferring the company of your phone, over the person speaking with you live, can be interpreted as disrespectful, or dismissive. However, I have to submit to the jury that my wife is famous, internationally, for multitasking during conversations, with whatever she is streaming on in the background through one Air Pod, while she pulls out the other one, to hear you. AND, she is known to, if she doesn't like the topic or the tone of the conversation, just put the Air Pod back in, and tune you out. "I can't deal with this right now", she'll say, dismissively, and that, friends, is the end of the conversation, unless I want to escalate it to the level of a dispute.  SO, my one-keying a response to a text, in comparison, is a small transgression, in my opinion. But not in hers.  Her: "What are you, a child? You can't even look at me while I'm talking to you? I'm trying to tell you something important here, and you're texting with your friends like a 12-year-old girl...." She went on from there.  Me: "If what you have to tell me is so important, can we skip the editorializing, and can I just have the news? I'm uninterested in your opinion of my dinner table etiquette, at this hour. I'm exhausted. Just tell me what I need to know." Her: "Well, now I'm not going to tell you. If you're going to be rude, then I'm done with this conversation." Me: "It mustn't be very important, then, so I'm fine with that. May I carry on with my dinner, and watch my video?" Her: "If that's more important to you than I am, then I guess you can." Me: (Sigh). "First of all, you talk to me with half an eye, and some show playing, all the time, so I don't think you're one to be casting stones on this topic. Second, if there is actually some nugget of important information, in the Library of Congress you seem to want to share with me, can I just have that? If it's important, I want to hear it. Otherwise, I'd like a few minutes to just zone out - you've said those exact words to me, and I don't object when you do." Her: "No, you'll have to figure it out for yourself, I've gotten the message, I'm done talking." Me: "Well if the car insurance is being cancelled, or something like that, and you are now withholding that from me, out of spite, then you, my dear, are being the child in this situation. So I'm going to assume, again, that whatever it is, doesn't rise to the level of importance where it would be worth burning this much oxygen over it, and I'm going to go back to doing what I was doing."  Then, I looked back at my iPad, which had now gone to sleep.  Her: "You wear DIAPERS. Do you hear me? DIAPERS. You're calling me a child, and you're sitting there in oversized Pampers. That's laughable." Then, she threw in some fake laughter.  I shrugged, picked up my dinner plate and my iPad, and went back to my office, but inside, I was hurt, I have to admit. Her shouting the D-word at me twice, and then underlining it with the P-word, was a bit like getting verbally smacked in the face, and my face burned, a bit like I had been smacked. And then I had to try and mount a dignified, unhurried strut away, while hearing the crunching, and feeling the pendulous bulk of my 18-hour-old BeDry Night Premium, that was, at least, covered by a pair of shorts. But not heavy ones.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: being in an argument with anyone, while obviously wearing a diaper, tests your metal; it just begs for an ad hominem retort. The fact that the conversation had nothing whatsoever to do with my infantile underpants preferences, and that it pivoted so sharply and so harshly, straight in that direction, tells me that she has underlying frustrations, that she is usually able to keep a lid on. Compounding the smarting of my dignity, was the fact that my older daughter, I knew, was right outside the kitchen, working on a resume in the dining room. I had to walk past her, too, although she gave me a sympathetic smile. She's been in fights with her mom before.  Later, when I had to return to the marital suite, my diaper was absolutely at the end of its rope, and that's saying something, for a BeDry Night. Usually, I'd have duffed my shorts, as soon as I walked into the room, but I couldn't stand the idea of waddling past her in a giant soggy diaper on this night, so I quietly, and without looking at her, retrieved an Inspire+ from my diaper drawer - neither could I imagine walking by her, with a Critter Caboose in my hand. I went into the washroom and showered and changed, and only then, once in a pristine and unremarkable nappy, did I emerge. Although I still had to carry the outgoing garment, now the weight of a dead tabby, to my diaper bin, and I tossed the shorts into the laundry - I suspected they might have seen  a bit of wee at the leg gathers. I put on my most staid, grey sleeping shirt, and silently got into bed, leaving my pacifier to the last minute, right when the lights went out.  This morning, I had to leave early, for a work appointment, and I was gone all day. I wore an Active Air, that needed to be changed as soon as I got home, which was about 90 minutes ago. Right now, I'm sitting in a Crinklz, only because the last remaining white diaper in my drawer, was an ATN, which is more or less useless. I need to restock my drawer, but I don't feel like doing that, until I have some time to myself, whereas usually, I'd happily arrange my diapers while we chat, or she watches a show. So I guess I will look like I'm wearing oversized Pampers, if she seems it at some point later tonight. Maybe Huggies would be more accurate, but I won't point that out...

Bold to killed off the cast. Also loved the stuff with the bow.

100% agree, one way or the other, let's pick one, and stick with it! I hate the shift, and it causes heart attacks and car accidents. 

So she made a deal with Piemon to turn Stolas and Blitz into teenage girls? I doubt this will keep them apart long.