“If you’re gong to take that downstairs, did you put something under the leak?”
“Yeah! Of course I did.”
Sharp toss of the head toward the porch. “That pot out there.”
“It has a leak–don’t use that.”
“It doesn’t have a leak! I checked it out. You’re always telling me I’m wrong.”
“I’m not telling you you’re wrong. I’m telling you the pot has a pin-hole leak.” I pick up pot and hold it to light. Pin-hole shows light. He doesn’t look. Stomps down the stairs.
I hear a rumbling battering as he searches for the other pot.
I go inside and close the kitchen door.