Sometimes marriage is amazing. 

And then sometimes marriage is opening the kitchen trashcan and being hit in the face with a hot, steamy pile of  rancid ass-odor because your husband threw out an entire pot of right-off-the-stove broccoli, closed the lid, and left it there to fester, mix with and heat up the rest of the day’s trash.

So that’s where we are today.

In a pile of steaming broccoli-garbage.