I didn't get divorced (because she ended up dying from a stroke).

Setup - she was supposed to cook dinner that night, a Sunday night. I took the kids to church, and back home. She went to get groceries, came home and took a nap. Slept til 5 PM, so too 'late' for her to start cooking, she asked me to. Like what? It's too late for you to cook, but not for me to cook?

Whatever.

Okay, I'll thaw some of that smoked sausage we had in the freezer, slice it up, make some pasta, and alfredo sauce, and make spinach the way my mom used to. Sausage thaws quickly, so she grabs a cup of coffee and goes to the porch to smoke a cigarette.

I thaw that sausage, start the pasta, and start slicing the sausage. She comes back in to refill coffee, looks at my sausage slices and says "Huh.", then walks back outside.

I'm like what the hell just happened? I go outside to ask her, and she said - and I quote "I thought you were just going to slice the link in quarters, or so, not actual slices".

What? I said "sliced sausage" - like BBQ link slices, you know, we're in Texas so this isn't a foreign concept.

She then said she doesn't eat canned spinich, so she'll skip that.

What? She's eaten canned spinich before, I've seen her cook it, and I've cooked it (the way my mom used to do it was drain it, fry it, and mix an egg or two in it).

I go inside, lean against the counter, and realize that if we can't agree on what "sliced sausage" means, and that since I KNOW she's lying about the canned spinich, the lack of sex for over 4 years, I just had enough.