Sheila and I had only been married a handful of years. We still saw eye-to-eye on most things.

On a slow night in the ER, the nurses interrogated me about my relationship with Sheila. I’d painted a rosy picture and they were determined to get to the truth.

“She’s perfect,” I said, “except she never fully fills the washing machine before turning it on.”

I guess I thought we’d save money if we did laundry in larger batches .

Near the end of my shift, the phone rang.

“It’s your wife,” the clerk said, putting the call on hold.

“I want to talk to her,” one of the nurses said, picking up the phone. She offered a smug grin and touched the blinking light on the phone.

The nurse smiled at me as she identified herself to Sheila. They knew each other. Sheila had visited me in the ER and knew many of the nurses.

“Jeff says you guys have a perfect relationship,” the nurse said into the phone. There was a long pause. The nurse’s smile faded. “Really?” she said. She finally said goodbye and hung up.

“What’d she say?” I asked.

“She said the only thing that bugs her is you overfill the washing machine.”

I laughed all the way home.