“Do I look like an evil, violent person?” I asked my husband.

“Well, sometimes, like when you’re really hungry,” He answered, a little too honestly. So, I punched his arm.

“Stop it. I’m being serious. I hate that they search my bags every time we travel.” I dumped the contents of my suitcase onto the laundry room floor. “I had to stand there and watch while some strange guy searched through my dirty underwear. It’s just gross.”

“I agree. It is gross. But shouldn’t he be the one complaining to his spouse, not you?” I glared at him until he retreated into the relative safety of the kitchen.