Robert: (loading the dishwasher) I knew I should’ve done this yesterday. I can’t fit everything in here now. (Frustrated there’s no spot for one last plate)
Me: Just put that one behind the other plates.
Robert: I can’t do that! There’s no little spiny thing to hold it in place, see? (Demonstrating how the plate easily moves back and forth between its brethren and the side of the dishwasher)
Me: Well, what’s wrong with letting that plate flap around a little?
Robert: (folding his body protectively over the dishes as if shielding them from my ignorance) How dare you use the words “flap” and “plate” in the same sentence! No sane person would do that!
Me: Shocking, isn’t it? That I would even suggest such blatant abuse of our cookware, domestic wonder that I am.
One hour later: the plate is on the counter, the dishwasher is humming, there is no flapping, Robert is snoring, and all is right with the world.