I came home from class one night to find Vladimir making dinner. On the stove, spaghetti boiled happily in the Pyrex casserole dish we’d gotten for our wedding.

“You can’t cook with that!” I exclaimed.

“But you use it in the oven.”

“Sure, but not directly on a heat source. It’ll explode!”

Vladimir raised his eyebrow at me. I could almost hear the “Crazy woman…” he didn’t utter.

The dish, however, was on my side.

We both turned to the ‘CRACK!’ as it shattered, deluging the stove and floor with bits of glass and spaghetti.

“It only did that because you said it would,” he said, staring at the mess.

“I guess I should have come home a little later,” I replied.