It started easily enough, with the the desire to be sure Christie's tires were full for her trip to St. Louis today. It ended with me finally lurching up the stairs at midnight, having had to change a tire, drive to the gas station, come home, and change the tire again, all because of a broken air pump that let the air out of a tire instead of filling it up.
Christie: You want half a bagel?
Me: Thanks. I'm starving.
Christie: You know you're my hero, right?
Me: Yeah, but I don't feel entirely comfortable getting credit for, well, kind of-
Christie: Getting credit for staying up late and working your ass off basically just to fix your own screw up?
Me: Yeah, that.
Christie: You get credit. Come on; it's bedtime.
I've got the best wife there is.