We used to argue. It wasn't constant, far from it, but it did happen. And when it did happen, it happened big. The neighbors got quite an earful from the two of us.
There were times when the brightest English Lit. major couldn't hold a candle to our deconstruction of one another's past transgressions. We elevated rehashing each other's faults to an art form.
We argued about the normal, everyday things that couples argued about, but we also argued about some singularly odd things, such as which side of the sink the dishes should be washed in and which side was to be used for rinsing.
I can even clearly recall us engaging in an especially heated argument about whether or not arguing was healthy for a relationship.
Clearly, it wasn't.
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