"I've decided something about the kitchen sink," I announced to Clay, as we drove to the twelve bazillionth store to gaze, slack-jawed, at the choices for countertops.
"I know I should have researched farmhouse sinks before we ordered the cabinets. I should have found out how much they cost before our sink cabinet was ordered and we were locked into that style. But I've decided not to feel bad about that anymore, because when we ordered the cabinets, I was having a very hard time. It was difficult for me to want anything, and I had to come up with a jillion opinions about style and finish and color and whatnot. I did the best I could, and I'm sorry I obligated us to spend more on the sink than we should have, but I'm not going to feel guilty about it anymore."
"Oh. Okay. I was hoping you had made a decision on, you know, an actual sink."
"I want the marble one."
"Okay. You know, I never was feeling bad about the sink?"
"Yes, I know."
"So you're justifying yourself to...who, exactly?"
"I don't have to have an answer to EVERYTHING."
"I love you."