A wife was pacing around the house late one night, getting angrier with every tick of the clock.

Her husband was usually home hours earlier, but tonight there was no call, no message, and no sign of him.

Midnight passed.

Then one o’clock.

Then two.

Finally, at around three in the morning, she heard fumbling at the front door.

She rushed to the top of the stairs and looked down. There was her husband, drunk as could be, leaning against the wall and trying to figure out how stairs worked.

“Do you realize what time it is?” she snapped.

He looked up at her with one eye half-open and waved his hand.

“Don’t get excited,” he slurred. “I’m late because I bought something for the house.”

Her expression changed immediately.

“For the house?” she asked, suddenly much softer.

She hurried down the stairs to meet him halfway.

“What did you buy for the house, dear?”

He smiled proudly, held onto the banister, and said:

“A round of drinks.”