Things My Wife Complains About #22: My Not Complaining

There's a game my wife and I play (she plays), in which she places her circulation-deficient hands on my abdomen, ostensibly to warm them. Last night her true reason was revealed, however, as she expressed disappointment that I didn't unleash my customary agony over having two frozen objects dropped without warning onto my skin.

Wife: It's not fun if you don't complain.

Me: You want me to complain?

Wife: It's like you don't even love me.

You might remember that my wife complains about my complaining, an entirely reasonable position for someone so tightlipped about her own world weariness. In contrast to her previous position, however, she now complains about my not complaining. To review: My wife complains, complains about my complaining, complains about my not complaining. She's a triple threat of logic.

Why, you might wonder, did I not complain? One possibility is that my wife told me not to complain. Another, more plausible, possibility is that James wakes up before 4:45 am every day, and I can't feel anything by the end of the night.

Possible Solutions!

1) Complain

2) Not complain

3) Complain while also stealthily not complaining (hard)

Cooling her hands with the snow