Anger cut through me like a knife. It was the middle of the night—technically, the morning—and our new puppy woke me up by making a huge mess. Without getting into details, she obviously ate something that didn’t agree with her and I was convinced the smell would never come out of the carpet. The injustice dominated my thoughts. I didn’t want a dog, much less a puppy. It was my wife Tara’s doing. Yet, there I was cleaning the carpet while my wife blissfully slept the night away. A few days later, Tara and I had our end-of-month finance conversation. If that sounds boring, then you’re like my wife. She hates it. During the conversation, Tara reminded me that tracking expenses and talking about money is something she does for me, not her. It was disheartening to hear. I didn’t want her to do anything to placate me. I wanted her to choose to care, even though it’s not her thing. You probably noticed the hypocrisy faster than me. Here I was holding onto my image as a guy who has no time or...
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