OK. We can talk about The Videotape Incident.

Before we begin, let me say that Husband and I are soul mates. He is the Hart to my Hart. The Han to my Leia. The Dylan to my Kelly. Well, he's really more of a Brandon, but I always liked Kelly with Dylan better. Besides, Brandon cheated on Kelly with Emma. Husband would never cheat with Emma.

My point is, we rarely fight. Which is why, a decade on, The Videotape Incident still resounds in the annals of our relationship like the echoes of a church bell on Sunday morning.

In my defense, I was dealing with a baby who didn't sleep. Instead of napping along with her I was cleaning out the videotapes.

Husband says, in his defense, that I was in the wrong, but, unlike me, he has found room in his heart for forgiveness. Much like Kelly forgave Brandon.

Is that all you have to say about it? I ask.

"Is this - for your blog?" he responds.

"Ummm, no?"

He put on the football game. Nothing more on the subject would issue from his mouth that night. Or until I post this particular blog.

Back to my videotape purge. I sorted the videotapes into two piles: Definitely Keep and Keep Only If Husband Wants. Keep Only If Husband Wants I placed in a neat stack on our dining room table.

I maintain that I instructed Husband to sort through the stack, and I did so with good reason. In the early months of our marriage, I had the audacity - audacity - to throw away the Cabela's Christmas Catalog. In March. Husband was irritated. He had borrowed the catalog from his dad. It wasn't ours to throw away. Lesson learned. I get a deep satisfaction from throwing things away. Husband does not. Now I ask before I toss. Almost always. Isn't that big of me? I'm a very good wife.

Husband maintains that he created two piles from Keep Only If Husband Wants. His new piles were Keep and Toss.

One tape was on loan to Husband from Friend4, whom I call Jason Statham. He is not, in fact, Jason Statham. But he looks like Jason Sthatham. Jason Statham's tape was Bruins Hockey Fights 1987-Present. Or something like that. This tape had moved with Husband, unviewed, from his parents' house to my apartment to our house. It had malingered through two grad school commemorations, one wedding, one Army deployment to El Paso, and nine months of pregnancy. I say that f***ing tape was in the Toss pile. Husband staunchly denies this. He says it was in the Keep pile for return to Jason Statham.

Now, any anal-retentive Type A's out there - or, as I like to call us, "normal" - will agree with me that such a situation warrants a third pile. The Return To Jason Statham pile. I think this is obvious. Husband thinks this is an indication for therapy. I think refusal to throw anything away is an indication for therapy. But whatever.

Needless to say, the Toss pile was small. Apparently, unspeakable evil descends upon your house if you throw anything away. But being the pleasant, pliable wife I am, I held onto those few Tosses for recording TV shows.

One day - without any attempts on Husband's part to return Jason Statham's tape, I may add - I had to record a show. Husband says I asked if I could I use the "how to play hockey tape", a completely different and separate tape from the Bruins hockey fight tape. I say that I simply grabbed a tape from the Toss pile.

Later, we sat down to watch the recorded show. I popped the tape in. And that's when Husband realized that I had recorded over the gold that is Bruins hockey fights.

Let's just say I received a little lecture. He was not pleased. Like the Cabela's Christmas Catalog, it was not ours to destroy. What would he tell Jason Statham?

Well, I was pretty sure Jason Statham didn't care since the videotape had been in Husband's possession for the better part of a decade and he had not, to my knowledge, broken Husband's kneecaps over the debt. I was also sure I could talk Jason Statham off the ledge if he was mad. Jason Statham is (one of) my future second husband(s). I was confident I could leverage that into forgiveness. I mean, the threat to withhold sex, even if it is decades in the future, works really well with guys, right?

As it turns out, Jason Statham never had to know that I so viciously defaced the Bruins tape. That night, I Googled "Bruins hockey fights 1987- present" (or whatever the hell it was called). I found a dude in Canada who had such a tape and emailed him. When he emailed me the next day, I discovered he had the twin of Jason Statham's tape BECAUSE HE HAD SOLD IT TO HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE. Not only would he gladly send me a copy, he'd do so for free. I just had to pay the postage. He would even send me the tape today - without waiting on my check.

Fifteen hours after my transgression, I had completely rectified it. Pleased with my recovery - and awesomeness - I joyfully told Husband how I had made our world right again. But my mistake far outweighed my resourcefulness. I was still in a lot of trouble. It didn't even help when I pointed out how awesome I am.

The tape arrived, and I laid out it out for Husband to bring to Jason Statham. The delivery was critical. Jason Statham was leaving for boot camp. He would be gone a long time.

And do you know what happened? DO YOU?! Husband FORGOT it. FORGOT. This tape that Jason Statham apparently was pining for in his waning days of civilian freedom laid on my dining room table, forgotten like a misfit toy.

That was when the phone rang. Normally, I avoid phone calls like potholes. But on this day, I grabbed it. Why? Because it was a recruiter with some exciting jobs for Husband in his area! Ever the helpful one, I told that recruiter Husband was not home. But she could certainly have his cell phone number.

Oh, yes I did.

Admittedly not my best moment.

Bad girl, Pope-pourri. Bad, bad girl.

But now, I felt, Husband and I were on even ground. He was chagrined at his lapse. I was chagrined about the tape. We both had gotten mad. Even Steven. Well, in our house, it's Even Stephan. But you get my point.

Then, happily, Jason Statham reached out to Husband. He was able to meet up once more before boot camp. I again carefully laid the tape on the table.

Yes. He forgot it again.

And he told Jason Statham about it. And do you know what Jason Statham said? He'd forgotten about the tape. Didn't need it. Couldn't use it.

Months later, Husband complained that a recruiter kept calling his cell. He didn't know how she'd gotten his number. I gave her the number I said. Because of The Videotape Incident. I did it. For years that recruiter called his cell. For years he got mad all over again. Well, for years I got mad anytime I thought about clearing out our videotapes for good. Never would I get satisfaction from discarding a tape. So, in this era of Blu-Ray and DVR, I still have videotapes. No VCR, but lots of videotapes.

Yeah. So now that I read this over, I can see I was more wrong than he was. His buddy was leaving. It was a lousy time. I had been more concerned with the cleanliness of my house than Husband's feelings. Jennifer would never treat Jonathan that way.

Before I published this post, I asked Husband to please read all the way through before he decided to be mad. Much like (spoiler alert) Noah on The Affair, I redeem myself at the end, I tell him.

He asked if I redeemed myself by telling you about the sofa in the driveway when he got home from work at 8 o'clock last Wednesday night.

A blog for another day.