Sometimes a relationship does not reveal its true character during the big romantic moments. Sometimes it shows up in the living room, gets mad at a memorial shelf, and starts auditioning for the role of least emotionally literate man alive.

This is one of those situations where a tiny argument about tiredness somehow transforms into a full-scale campaign against the concept of memory. The original issue is already very modern in a deeply annoying way. 

One person is exhausted, the other takes that personally, and suddenly a normal low-energy car ride becomes a referendum on whether silence is a moral failure. That alone would be enough for a decent couple to regroup, eat something, and pretend the whole thing never happened. But some people cannot stop while the disagreement is still small. They must keep digging until they find the emotional bedrock and then complain that it is cold.