"You think that's reasonable?"
My career was hitting its stride. Every day was a sprint from one thing to the next, barely enough time to wolf down a meal between meetings.
Sleep was the only way I recharged. Every minute of it counted.
And my mother-in-law wanted me to cut two hours from that, just so I could wash clothes by hand?
It was absurd.
But my explanation rolled right off her. She waved it away without a second thought:
"When I was your age, I was up at five every morning doing housework. Kept it up for decades. So what makes you so special?"
"If you ask me, you're just too sensitive."
Too sensitive?
The reason she could get up at five was because she went to bed at eight every night, like clockwork. She got a full night's sleep every single time.
What I truly couldn't wrap my head around was why she insisted on measuring the present against her past.
Every generation had its own struggles.
Just because she'd had to eat bark off trees back in the day, did that mean I had to do the same?
I worked myself to the bone every day so my life could keep getting better. Why would I volunteer for misery, dragging myself out of bed at five a.m. to hand-wash laundry?
Looking at that self-righteous expression on her face, I stopped arguing.
Instead, I turned to Abner.
He was my husband. The person closest to me in the world.
We'd been together for over three years. On all those nights I worked past midnight, he'd drive to my office to pick me up.
He'd seen me, time and again, so wiped out from work that I collapsed into bed the second I got home.
He knew better than anyone how desperately I needed a full night's rest.
I thought he'd speak up for me.
But when his eyes met mine, he was quiet for only two seconds before he said, in that careful, measured tone of his:
"Lorraine, Mom has a point."
"People used to get by without washing machines, right? They managed just fine."
"She's only looking out for you. Wants you to get some exercise. Don't let her good intentions go to waste."
I stared at him. For a moment I thought I'd misheard.
Just yesterday, sitting in the wedding car, he'd held my hand with that tender, pained look on his face and promised me:
"Lorraine, it kills me watching you work yourself so hard every day."
"Once we're married, you won't have to worry about a thing at home. Leave it all to me and Mom."
"We'll take care of you."
He'd sounded so sincere that I was genuinely moved. I thought I'd found a husband who understood me, who'd keep me warm when the world was cold.
And now, one day later, he was standing beside his mother, asking me to wake up two hours early to hand-wash the entire family's laundry?
Looking at the face I'd loved for three years, it hit me that I might never have truly known Abner at all.
Agnes saw him take her side and straightened up like she'd won a verdict, satisfaction spreading across her face:
"See? Even Abner can tell I'm doing this for your own good."
"Lorraine, you're a married woman now. It's time you learned how to be a proper wife and mother."
She paused, as if something had just occurred to her, then added:
"My daughter and her husband are overseas. They couldn't make it to the wedding yesterday, so they're flying back today to stay with us for a couple of days."
"Abner and I will go pick them up from the airport. While we're gone, finish the laundry, clean the house, and have a full dinner on the table by the time we get back."
"Oh, one more thing."
"Clear out the master bedroom for them. They've had a long trip. The master bed will be more comfortable."
I frowned and looked at Abner:
"You're okay with your sister and her husband taking our bedroom?"
