After my husband and I had a huge argument, we ended up not talking to each other for days. Finally, on the third day, as he was frantically looking for a clean shirt, he asked where they were

After my husband and I had a huge argument, we ended up not talking to each other for days.

Finally, on the third day, as he was frantically looking for a clean shirt, he mumbled, “Where are my shirts?”

I saw my opportunity. Without looking up from my book, I coolly replied, “I told them not to talk to you either.”

He blinked. “Wait… what?”

I smirked. “You ignored me for three days. So, I figured I’d teach your clothes some manners.”

He stared at me, hands on his hips. “You’re telling me… my shirts are mad at me?”

I shrugged. “Not just your shirts. Your socks are boycotting you, your pants are on strike, and your underwear? They left the house.”

At that moment, he knew he had lost the battle. With a defeated sigh, he sat down next to me and said, “Okay… can I at least talk to my towels?”

I flipped another page. “Only if you’re ready to apologize. Otherwise, you’re drying off with the curtains.”

A moment of silence passed. Then he muttered, “… I’m sorry.”

I smiled, put my book down, and said, “Your shirts accept your apology.”

That was the day my husband learned that I am the President of Household Operations… and the laundry is my loyal cabinet.