It wasn't the first time he'd done it, and Carla knew full well that it wouldn't be the last. Trying to prise herself free, she just had to ask herself why was it so hard for him to put the toilet seat down?
"Chris," she shouted, still removing herself from the bowl. "I've told you a million times to put that bloody toilet seat down!"
Chris, eyes glued to the television, barely blinked. He simply muttered back, "sorry dear," and continued to watch the football, taking a loud slurp of his beer as he did so. This argument was not new to him, but he didn't care enough about it to change.
"Oh, gee, thanks honey," Carla shot back sarcastically, "that makes it all right".
"Well what am I supposed to say?" Chris asked, still more focused on the football than he was his wife.
"Don't say anything," she snapped, rubbing her sore back, "just start putting the seat down. Do you have any idea how much it hurts when I go crashing into the bowl like that?"
This last comment snapped Chris away from the football. He was now fully involved in the argument.
"Well why don't you look before sitting down? It's not like you can't see it when you walk in".
"Why should I look? If you did what I asked in the first place then there'd be no need".
"C'mon Carla, it's not bloody rocket science, it's a damn toilet. The lid is on a hinge, it goes down and up. Why is this concept so difficult for women to grasp!"
"Oh, OK genius, if it is such an easy process, why haven't YOU been able to learn that when it isn't being used, the toilet seat should always be left down."
"Because I don't see why it has too, you need it down, I need it up. Are you that selfish that you honestly think I should change the toilet habits I have had my entire life just to suit your need to sit down while having a pee?"
"That's just typical of you. You do as little as possible and expect me to pick up the slack!"
It was now obvious to Chris that this argument had changed. This was no longer about the toilet seat.
"Oh, I see, you're annoyed with me watching the footy."
"Well it would be nice to have a hand around the house. I can't get two minutes of your time when the football season is on."
This last comment really hit the spot with Chris. He stood up and threw his empty beer can in the trash. He then turned around to face his wife, not knowing if he should defend himself against her tirade, or simply let it go for the sake of peace.
"Do you have any idea how much I do around here?" he asked, choosing self defense. "Aside from putting in sixty hour weeks in the office, so far this weekend I have mowed the lawn, washed the car, swept out the garage, taken three loads of rubbish to the tip, gone grocery shopping, cooked the barbecue as you entertained your girlfriends on Friday night, and changed that light in the hall that blew on Wednesday. So I'm soooo sorry if I want to take two bloody hours off to watch the Tigers game!"
Carla just folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. Raising one eyebrow, she gave him the best do you think I care' look she could muster.
"You do NOT want to start THAT game with me mister," she fired. "You wouldn't last a week doing what I do."
"Oh yeah," he chuckled "that fifteen hour work week must be a real killer, princess."
"Right, that's it, if you want to watch the damn football I suggest you go and do it at Mark's. I'm fed up with this rubbish."
This time Chris did bite his tongue. He could see his way out of this argument and he sure as hell intended to take it. Grabbing his last six-pack of beer out of the fridge, he headed out the door.
As he walked across the road to Mark's, he was still fuming.
"All I wanted was to watch a game of football," he muttered, "why does she do this to me?"
With his mind elsewhere, he didn't see the cyclist heading his way. The collision broke his leg and wrist, as well as causing untold damage to the other guy and his bike.
Chris lay in his hospital bed, covered in plaster. Carla was by his side. The anger they shared before had gone, forgotten like a thousand arguments before.
"Well, I hope you've learned your lesson, tough guy," Carla smirked, reaching out to hold his hand.
"Absolutely honey," he grinned, grasping her hand tightly. "I can't believe we get ourselves into theses stupid arguments over such trivial issues."
"So, you going to start putting the toilet seat down?"
Chris put his head back onto his pillow and let out a little laugh. "What, and end our little fights? I wouldn't want that," he said.
"Careful there mister," she smiled, squeezing his hand tighter, "you are in no position to argue, I can really hurt you right now."
"Don't worry love, I've learned my lesson."
"So I've finally gotten through to you have I? after all these years!"
"Well, sort of."
"What do you mean, sort of'?"
"Well, I was thinking before about our argument and the accident, and while I still don't think I should have to put it down for you, I've decided it is not worth the pain."
"So all these arguments we've had could have been solved years ago with a few broken bones?" Carla laughed.
"No, the broken bones I can deal with. I'm talking about the worst part of all of this."
"Which is?"
"I dropped my beer AND missed the end of the game!"