AITA for wishing my wife had cheated after coming home to a three-week chaos spiral?

I flew to Germany for three weeks and came home to my 39-year-old wife in a full comedy-horror spiral — bad DIY sourdough, an all-juice experiment, and a permanently worn bathrobe that left me wondering if I’d rather have found evidence of cheating than the scene I walked into.

I left for a work trip to Germany and my wife, 39, stayed home by choice. Day two she tried a sourdough recipe but used what she thought was yeast — it was Epsom salt — and produced a rock-hard loaf she lovingly called “Crumbzilla,” which cracked our marble counter. Then she went raw vegan, ordered 19 pounds of produce from a dubious site; half arrived moldy and she juiced the rest, surviving on juice for a week. She got so dizzy she put frozen meals in the laundry hamper after mistaking it for the fridge. To get by she ate Pop-Tarts and spoonfuls of peanut butter while insisting it was “balance.”

I’m the husband who returned after a three-week trip to find my wife living in a robe-and-juice spiral: from “Crumbzilla” to kombucha whispers, and I joked I wished she’d cheated because the alternative was absurdly worse.

As the week went on she stopped wearing regular clothes and lived in a bathrobe — same one, every day — increasingly stained from food and the juicing experiments. The dog (a schnauzer) refused to cuddle and eventually moved his bed into the bathroom. When I landed and walked in, she greeted me in the robe holding a jar of pickles and a half-knitted scarf she said helped “relax her stomach.” The next morning she whispered, “I think I’m a kombucha now,” and burped in her sleep.

"I thought, 'Okay, she’s a grown adult. She’ll be fine.'"

I grabbed my keys, took the dog for fresh air, and went to a café because both of us needed a break — the barista even asked if I wanted oat milk and I said no; my trauma was already liquid. I sat with my espresso and a silent, shocked dog while processing that the relationship was intact but the living room smelled like fermented ginger and regret.

"She named it 'Crumbzilla' and displayed it like a trophy."

I posted the story as satire — edited later to clarify that no one was in real danger, the dog is recovering with peanut butter and a weighted blanket, and the relationship is fine (the fish’s dignity, however, suffered). Some readers may read it as a red flag; others see it as comic relief. Either way, the week of weird experiments and robe couture became a memorable homecoming.

🏠 The Aftermath

Right now I’m at a café with the dog (who followed me) getting air and espresso. The house smells odd, but my wife is safe and mostly embarrassed. The dog has temporarily relocated his bed to the bathroom and is on a slow road back to normal cuddles.

At home: the robe remains in circulation, the half-knitted scarf sits on the couch, and Crumbzilla occupies a place of dubious honor. Our frozen meals liquefied in the laundry hamper but were eventually dealt with. The wife has recovered from the juicing week and has agreed to eat some solids again.

Consequences were mostly logistical and emotional — weird smells, a traumatized pet, and a lot of stories to retell. I joked I wished she’d cheated because that would have been a simpler, if worse, explanation for the chaos; in reality the edit clarifies it was satire and we’re fine.

"In our house the kombucha phase was more dramatic than any real crisis — mostly it left the dog confused and the fish offended."

I’m relieved nothing serious happened and also slightly mournful for the fish’s dignity. The entire episode underlined how quickly domestic strangeness can look alarming and how humor sometimes masks worry.

💭 Emotional Reflection

This isn’t about assigning blame — it’s about a moment that looked alarming but was mostly bizarre and comedic. Some readers will see warning signs: drastic diet changes, dizziness, and odd behavior deserve attention. Others will read the tone and accept it as a satirical homecoming tale.

Could I have handled it differently? Maybe I could have checked in more often while away, or set up a quicker video call when things started sounding strange. But when I walked in, my immediate response was disbelief and then dark humor — which I later clarified in an edit so nobody panicked.

Reasonable people may disagree: some will prioritize concern and suggest medical checks; others will shrug and laugh and remind everyone that sometimes adults have messy, foolish weeks that end with a story and a hug.

Here’s how the community might see it:

“This reads like a comedy sketch — hope she’s okay but also thank you for Crumbzilla content.”

“If that juicing left her dizzy, check in medically — crazy stories can hide real issues.”

“Dog trauma is real — glad the schnauzer is on peanut butter duty and getting a weighted blanket.”

Reactions will split between laughter and concern, with many readers pointing out the difference between dark humor and a genuine cry for help — especially when health and behavior changes are involved.

🌱 Final Thoughts

Homecomings aren’t always tidy. Sometimes they’re cracked counters, abandoned diets, and a very offended fish. Humor helped me process that first shock, and an edit clarified that this was satire, not a real emergency.

Still, it’s a reminder: if someone close starts acting wildly out of character, a quick check-in beats an assumption — and your pet’s comfort deserves priority, too.

What do you think?
Would you laugh it off, call a friend, or insist on a medical check? Share your take below 👇