Never go to bed angry — seriously?

The crazed person who came up with the idea that couples should never go to bed angry was either (1) never married or (2) too sleep-deprived to think straight.

In theory, the talk-it-over-until-we-kiss-and-make-up routine sounds blissfully simple. In reality, abiding by the Nighttime Argument Rule means two tired, frustrated people in opposing corners. When the bell rings — or the grandfather clock chimes — spouses start taking emotional jabs. As each half-hour round passes, what began as a half-empty glass left on the coffee table turns into a full-scale battle over who cleans (or doesn’t clean) what inside and outside the house.

The longer the fight, the more exhausted the full-time job holding, multi-tasking combatants become. They are determined to win so everyone can get some rest. Eventually, both come out swinging with words and emotions better left unsaid and unexpressed. The self-proclaimed winner, or Champion of the Last Word, mainly enjoys aggravation and curiosity as to what started the feud in the first place.

So, should couples ever call time out? Or must an argument always be resolved before laying head to pillow, even if it means seeing dawn’s early light?

Before Charles and I married, I epitomized fix it and fix it now. If it was not fixed when the lights went out, it was even more unfixed when they came on. After all, I had a full seven to eight hours, not of sleep, but of mulling things over and building my case: what I should have said, what I wanted to say and why I was right. In essence, I was a slow cooker on a slow simmer.

I found out quickly that Charles was a microwave. When he was done, he was done. His timer counted down until bedtime, and he shut down, whether the disagreement was resolved or not. The man slept soundly and woke smiling, usually not even recalling our argument.

Then, I was doubly mad — not only because of whatever I stewed over all night, but also because he had forgotten that he was supposed to be mad, too (and he had a full night’s rest). Arguing with a microwave puts a slow cooker at a distinct disadvantage.

When it comes to a lifetime commitment, anger and resentment are dangerous emotions to sleep on. Couples who allow insignificant things to disguise themselves as mountains eventually will find the truly difficult peaks insurmountable. Add the element of weariness, and a molehill can look like Mount Everest.

Sometimes, Charles and I still go to bed miffed. But I sleep much better, mainly because I am secure enough to know that we can work and pray our way through anything — big or small. Doing that is a lot harder after the clock strikes midnight, so I am learning to let the little things go and save the big things until we are both more rested and less frustrated.

In marriage, it is not about whether you are a microwave, a slow cooker, or a Fry Daddy.

It is about knowing when to pull the plug and when to leave it that way.