One day after mom had moved to New Jersey and you were still living at the house, I was ironing some of my laundry. You were going somewhere in a nice suit and tie. You asked if you could use the iron for a moment. I went on about my business on my side of the ironing board while you were ironing on the other.
We were chatting about stuff in general while you finished up. When you told me you were done, I put my hand around to start ironing again but, like an idiot, I didn’t look at the iron. Both of us being right handed it was natural for you to put the iron down the opposite way that I needed it.
I burned my wrist. You were so upset when it blistered. I ran cold water on it and you got me some ice. I wasn’t upset at all. Yes, it hurt but it was my own stupid fault.
And of course, you finally agreed with me on that point.