A long and tiring week

"You have ten questions," she said.
"Don't you mean twenty?" I asked.
"No. Ten."
"Why ten?"
"It's the shortest number," she replied, "all the other ones take forever."
That's true, I thought. But I didn't say so aloud. Rules! Always with the rules, she is. Damn her and damn her tongue.
"Damn you and damn your tongue! Is everything a game to you?" I asked.

(I might have been a bit loud. I was trying to let a little frustration slip through in my voice - but subtly, yeah?)

"No. Everything is not a game."
"Yeah? Badminton?"
"Yes. It's a sport."
So she didn't know what she was talking about. Honestly, I wasn't too impressed with any of her answers. But it was a sunny day - can you believe that? And I was soaking wet from arm to ankle. This was a worry.
"Do you realise what this looks like?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really."
I wasn't sure if she really was really sure, though. She looked a bit shifty that second time. You know how sometimes you have to say things more than once? It was a bit like that. Yeah.

Anyhow, it was time to close things down. To think. Like a brick through the windows of her argument, you know. And there were all these vegetables I was trying to carry with me, too; it was kind of difficult. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, I'm not complaining or anything. Heck no.
"So," I said – there might have been some pointing involved, too – "if you're right, then why do I keep running out of ice cubes?"
"Right about what?"
"Aha! You just asked me a question! Does that mean I win?"

"No," she told me. "And that's why I still have all your old Metallica albums. Now hand over the vegetables and get out of here."

So it's like, every week it's something like this. Forget about it.

Next time I'll bring something sharp.