Everyone gets interrupted. It happens every day.
You start to do something and you get a call from that telemarketer you’re so fond of. You sit down at your computer to begin working and your email begins to ding as if you’ve just hit the jackpot on a slot machine in Vegas. You’re getting one child ready for school when the other decides that the syrup on their pancakes would be a good medium for finger painting.
Interruptions are also a part of marriage.
When I’m eating out, I hate not getting what I ordered. Once while traveling, my wife and I pulled off the interstate to grab something to eat. Like a pit stop at Indy, we drove through, got our food, and got back on the road. Back on the interstate, my wife opened the bag to verify the order. (Yeah, I know.. we should have thought of that before getting back on the interstate.) She discovered they had gotten my order wrong. I was so frustrated I turned around at the next exit…several miles down the road…and went back to get what I had ordered. (Can you say “obsessive?”)
What’s this got to do with marriage?