What happened

Not that that makes the ones to which you've grown accustomed any less soul crushing.

So in the last few minutes before my bride got home tonight, I turned on the U.S. Open to see some of Venus Williams' match. I find myself appreciating her and her sister's careers lately, and realizing I am late to do so. In fairness, though, I've never watched much tennis anyway. But I wasn't planning on watching the whole thing, because my wife doesn't care for televised sports at all. 

She gets home, and we take out the trash and recycle together, which was a nice change from the usual of doing that by myself. She knows I'm not feeling well, and wanted to help me out, which I appreciate. I jumped up to help at the thought of her trying to drag our (unwheeled) trash can to the curb. Afterward, she mentioned that she was going to the grocery store to pick up a mixer for the rum punch she bought that's too strong for her liking, so I offered to walk with her. I figured it would give us some more time together. 

We got home, I watched one more game of the third set of the Williams match, then handed over the remote, because I didn't want to watch something that she doesn't like. 

So she immediately pulls up a recorded show that I don't like. At all. 

And thus ends a hopeful night.

And before you ask: it isn't as if we haven't discussed this issue on multiple occasions over the decades. It isn't as if I haven't poignantly described how I feel. And it isn't as if this end result doesn't represent the vast majority of my nights.