That first real fight changed something. It changed me. It changed us. Up until that time, it was doves, roses, and a can-do-no-wrong attitude. After the incident, the doves pooped, the roses grew thorns, and the can-do-no wrong turned to no can do.  I will get to the fight in a minute. The when, how and where is not as important as the now. And the why—well, at their core, most fights are about what he “should have” done. He should’ve taken the trash out on time, so that the house isn’t stinking right now.  He should’ve told his friend we can’t loan him any money the first time, but now he thinks we’re a bank. He should’ve told me that the water was cut off, so that I could call the water company and get it cut back on. By the way, that’s what the fight was about. Seems silly now, but my goodness was this Black girl mad as hell. And the funny thing is that I wasn’t supposed to be the mad one. Originally, I was the perpetrator and he was supposed to the be the mad one. Let me explain.  Our water bill comes quarterly, and quite simply, I forgot to pay it. So, it got cut off. So, why wasn’t it his fault too? Well, I handle the money, the bills, and the investments for the most part. But, as I would find out later, it should have never been arranged that way.  My husband, P____ , was at work when I found out that the water was off. I was horrified that I had forgotten. I never forget to pay bills. I won’t make any excuses, but I have been excruciatingly busy the last few months. I didn’t ask for his help, because I didn’t think that I needed it. If fact, it didn’t even occur to me to ask. That was another mistake. Before getting married, I had been single and on my own since the age of 18—21 years! I have put myself through college and graduate school, bought a house, started businesses, traveled extensively a (alone), and managed every decision, big and small, in my life. And now was no different. My husband has a physically demanding job and sometimes he has to work crazy hours. So, me being the self-sufficient woman that I am, had no problem assuming a role that I had always assumed—money manager, house organizer, cook, chief negotiator, and President and CEO of ME, Inc.  My husband was grateful to have a strong, supportive wife, who was willing to step in and just Git ‘er done. Little did we realize, that was a recipe for disaster. It was no fairer of me to take over than it was for him to let me. That’s not to say that it was his fault.  I am sure that if he had suggested otherwise, I would have resisted. Ok, I’ll be honest. He would have had to pry the checkbook from my cold, dead hands! Money was momma’s domain—period. I mean, look, hadn’t I done a good job to that point? Who better than me to continue handling the business? Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t verbalize this philosophy or even think about. That was the problem.  But, back to the story: I sat on the sofa wondering just how I was going to tell P_____ that the president and CEO, Momma, had messed up and now the water was cut off. I pushed back feelings of resentment that kept me from dialing the phone number. The truth is that I was a little mad that I even had to tell him. In the past, if the corporation had an issue, I handled it without having to tell anyone that I messed up. I didn’t have to worry about what somebody else was going to think, say, or do about it. It was my problem. But now it was our problem- grrrrrrrrrrrr! It’s funny how the thing we ask for can be the same thing we fight. I’ve always wanted someone to help shoulder the burdens of life. But, when one of those burdens came along, the first thing I did was revert back to what I had always done. And the two shall become one…more than a notion.