Carcassonne anxiety

Since I can't have nice things but my wife can, is an excellent caretaker of things and has seen me through multiple wallet losses and the loss of an actual car earlier in my life, she is ever-vigilant against my bullshit. Rightfully so! I do not fault her! But it leads to some conversations which may, to the outsider, seem disproportionately tense. As in the case of the board game Carcassonne. It is widely available online and is not in any way rare or pricey. But also, it has a bunch of highly loseable guys and dozens of tiles, is pretty, and is DEARLY beloved by us.

Thus:

B: What are you doing with that?

Me(E): I'm, um, taking it to work to play at lunch.

B: Do you have to?

E: I promise I won't lose or destroy it!

B: Do you promise?

E: I promise!

LATER THAT WEEK

B: Did you bring the game home?

E: I did.

B: Did you lose any guys?

E: No.

B: Or like the builders or the pigs?

E: No. All accounted for.

B: Or the tiles?

E: Well, I didn't count them, but I'm pretty sure....

B: GOD, WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT?

STILL LATER THAT WEEK

B: Where is the scoreboard?

E: Remember how I took it to work and -

B: And you left it there?

E: Babe. No. I just had it in a separate plastic bag to protect it, and it's right here.

B: Please do not take it to work anymore. Please.

E: Ohmigod, fine!!

Does my dearest one seem overly concerned about the sanctity of Carcassonne? Reader, do not judge her until you have lived with me for even one day. And I have washed your darks with an entire packet of kleenex, rolled chairs on top of your delicate musical-equipment-related cords, and left your CDs lying uncased and vulnerable all around the house.