…had flipped the breaker specifically for his home office and permanently canceled our current internet service.
He stumbled into the kitchen, panic sweating through his crisp, ironed dress shirt. “What happened to the power? The Wi-Fi is completely gone! I was in the middle of a presentation with the regional directors!”
I didn’t flinch. I just took a slow, deliberate sip of my coffee while sitting at the perfectly spotless kitchen island he had demanded the night before.
“I decided to take your advice,” I said calmly. “I realized I was getting a little distracted. So, I eliminated the distractions.”
His face flushed a deep crimson. “Are you insane? Turn it back on! I’ll lose this account!”
“I can’t,” I replied, offering a sympathetic shrug. “The internet is gone. Canceled. Done. As for the power in your office…” I nodded toward the hallway leading to the basement. “I flipped the breaker. You see, since all the utilities have been in my name since before we even got married, I realized I was essentially paying for the privilege of being treated like a 1950s maid. I decided to make some administrative changes.”
“Earn the password.” His own condescending words from last night seemed to finally echo in his head, the realization washing over him like ice water. The arrogant smirk he had worn while kicking his feet up on the coffee table was completely gone, replaced by pure desperation.
“Please,” he begged, grabbing his dead laptop. “Just flip the switch back. Let me use your hotspot. Please, I’ll give you the new router password right now.”
I stood up, picked up my purse, and grabbed my car keys.
“Sorry,” I smiled, stepping past him toward the front door. “You’re going to have to earn the electricity. There’s a bucket and a mop in the hallway closet. I expect the grout in the master bathroom to be spotless by the time I get back.”
“Where are you going?!” he shouted after me.
“To a cafe with free Wi-Fi,” I called back over my shoulder. “I have some important research to do on divorce attorneys.”
