1975, this was. My wife points out marriage should be a partnership. “This home is not, in fact, your castle,” she said. She thought it best I start with an unskilled job. She gave me grocery shopping. There I am one day at the IGA, studying the list she’d given me. I’m asking the cashier, “TP? She wrote TP. You know what that means?” The cashier blinks. Then I hear behind me a big, gravel voice: “Jesus! That’s toilet paper you dumb shit!” I look back and there’s old Tom Wilson with a full cart and his wife’s list too.