I got into a bit of a row with my wife last weekend. Usually, she is a breathtakingly level-headed woman, but this row involved a leaky faucet and I just couldn't get her to see things my way.
"Just look up on the Internet what to do," she said, arms akimbo. "They must have a dozen or 17 You Tube videos on fixing leaks."
I sipped at my viscous cup of coffee and tried to stay calm.
"Not only am I too big to fit under the sink," I reminded her, "you know I'm rather beefy, I know nothing about plumbing."
"Plumbing schmubling," she replied with unusual eloquence. "Plumbing is like making ads. A good idea can come from anywhere."
"Well, yes," I said, "o tempore, o mores," I mumbled under my breath with all the wisdom and distance I had acquired from studying Latin for ten years at the short end of a whacking pointer.
"A good idea can come from anywhere," I said, "so therefore, you're saying anyone can fix a persistent drip."
"Look who's being a persistent drip, now" she one-upped me. "Just get under the sink and fix it."
Again I demurred. "If, god forbid, I got under the sink and had, while stuck in the pipes, a mild infarction, you, I assume would perform the necessary angioplasty yourself."
"Of course I would," she said bull-headedly. "I could learn all about heart surgery from You Tube and Wikipedia. I happen to believe a good cardiologist could come from anywhere."
"You have had a tough week at work, I take it."
She nodded vigorously, having made put a fine point on it.
We stopped bickering. And I called a plumber.