The fight began while I was massaging my wife's feet.

    We were curled up on the couch. I was kneading and caressing Jennifer's insole and heel. Each little piggy was carefully attended to, as was every corn, callus and bunion. Then, into the third hour, I got to thinking, Wouldn't it be great if someone else were doing this? Only I didn't think it -- I said it.

    There was silence from the east end of the sofa. I sped up the massage and suggested we switch on HGTV. "They're remodeling bathrooms!" I said, a little too eager to please.

    Too late. "I don't ask you for much," she said, moving to the easy chair. "May I please have the remote?" She was angry. I could tell because Jennifer gets polite when she's angry. And then the fight was on. I knew because we weren't saying anything. When we're not fighting, Jennifer can wax eloquent on any subject. While watching Medium last month, she held forth on the topic "Is it me, or does Patricia Arquette's haircut look off?"

    Well, two can play this game -- I buried my nose in The New York Times crossword puzzle. Since it was a Thursday, I got only three clues right. But there I sat, staring at 27 down, "Beverly Sills's shoe size," pointedly ignoring Jennifer and the couples remodeling their hampers.

    Jennifer was the first to cave. It was a few hours later. The news was now on, and I had just figured out that Beverly Sills wore a size "bix" when Jennifer whispered, "I'm sorry." She's not a fighter, and the pressure was killing her. She sat on my lap and kissed me ever so tenderly, just as sports came on.

    Frankly, I see no reason why I can't kiss my wife and watch Mets highlights simultaneously. However, this seems to break fight-makeup protocol, in which it is spelled out in some handbook （which I apparently misplaced） that when your wife wants to bury the hatchet, you are not allowed to watch sports.

    "You don't want to kiss me?"

    "I do. But I would prefer to kiss you during the weather."

    Off my lap and back to the chair she went.

    "All night I watched couples agonize over the benefits of the Centerset Double Handle Lavatory Faucet from the Victorian Collection versus the Widespread High-Arc Lavatory Faucet," I reminded her. "But when sports comes on …"

    "May I please have the remote?"

    If she thinks she can take that tone with me …

    Earlier, Jennifer had pointed out that she doesn't ask me for much. And it's true. I'm the needy one.

    The one who must have his jokes laughed at, who needs his hand held when we go to parties, the one who ducks all the important decisions.

    "C'mon, I'll massage your feet," I offered. Before I could catch the words and stuff them back in my mouth, she was on the couch.

    Now it was her turn. She switched on ESPN. And as the Mets scored the go-ahead run …

    "So," she said, "do you think Patricia Arquette will grow out her hair?"

    争执开始的时候我在为妻子捏脚。

    我们舒适的蜷卧在沙发上。我温柔的捏着Jennifer的脚底和足跟并仔细的揉着她那像玉米粒似的脚趾。不一会，就过了三个小时，我就想啊，要是有其他人替我做就好了！只是我不仅仅是想--我说了出来。

    沙发那头一下安静了下来。我加快了揉捏的动作并建议说："我们看家居频道吧".我接着说："他们正改造浴室呢！"那时，我都觉得自己急于取悦于她了。

    可惜还是太迟了。"我不会再提更多要求了。"她边说边走向了一边的安乐椅。"请问，我可以呆在这个小角落里吗？"Jennifer生气了，因为她生气的时候总是很礼貌。接着，我知道冷战已经暴发了，因为我们再没有说过一句话。当我们不吵架的时候，Jennifer的口才是无论遇到什么话题都可以用雄辩来形容的。上个月我们看电视时，她就对" 是我还是Patricia Arquette的发型更好？"大加讨论。

    好吧，两个人的游戏--我埋头玩起了《纽约时报》上的字谜游戏。从星期四就开始玩了，但我目前只找到三条线索。我坐在那儿看着那些格子，沉浸其中，"Beverly Sills的穿多大的鞋？"我完全丢开了Jennifer 和夫妻矛盾。

    几小时后，Jennifer 第一次屈服了。新闻开始了，当我得知Beverly Sills 穿的是大号鞋的时候，Jennifer 轻轻的对的说："对不起。"很明显冷战让她吃不消了。她慢慢坐在我腿上用前所未有的热情来吻我，但此时我最爱的体育节目开始了。

    坦白说，我知道我没有理由不去吻我的妻子并且陪她看电视。但是，这破坏了战争暴发的初衷。虽然，一些手册里曾提到过这点（很明显我根本没在意）,那就是当你的妻子想要与你合好时，你不能去看体育节目。

    "你不打算吻我吗？"

    "我想吻你。但是我更愿意在不播体育节目的时候吻你。"

    她起身回到了安乐椅那儿。

    "整个晚上我都在看一对儿夫妻苦苦思索关于盥洗室应该用哪种水龙头更好的节目，可是当体育节目刚一开始就……"我补充到。

    "请问，我可以呆在这个小角落里吗？"

    她还用那种语调对我说……

    早些时候，Jennifer就曾说过她不想再多要求我什么。而现在我忽然发现，其实我才是个要求太多的人，我说笑话时她必须要笑，我去参加聚会时她必须要挽着我的胳膊，还有我想要做所有重要的决定。

    "过来，我帮你按摩脚。"我请求到。我还没把话说完，她已经坐到了沙发上。

    现在轮到她了，她打开体育台和我一起为大都会队加油……

    "你说Patricia Arquette会不会把头发留长？"她说道。