Sunday night, I got Chinese food and lay on Jason's couch watching bad TV. It doesn't sound like much, necessarily, but it's everything I wanted in a Sunday night. When you dream little, you can get every little thing you dream of.
In an intense food-and-tv-coma, it seemed like the only cure could be fortune cookies. That's actually not true: I just lost my sense of any kind of segue to my fortune, which was: "You need to forgive that person today. Just believe me." This is no kind of fortune; you can tell because you can't play the in bed game with it. (In contrast, J's fortune, "the best times of your life are yet to come" works beautifully with an "in bed" tacked on the end.) It's the "just believe me" that really makes this particularly intimidating and weirdly like a mom-guilt-trip.
The cap to all this, of course, is that on Saturday there actually was fighting. But on Sunday, no fighting at all & no need for forgiveness.