I'll tell you piece of advice I got on a building site one afternoon, after a nasty argument on the phone with my bird.
The bloke, I'll call him Chris (although his real name was Dave Merryweather, bricklayer), said that I should leave early, go back to the flat and make a lovely dinner for us both (me and the bird, not Chris), open a bottle of wine and wait for her to come home. As she walked through the door, Chris said, take her coat and hang it up, then put your arms around her and hold her for a few seconds. Then kiss her head and tell her that you love her, that you're sorry about what you said and that you realise now that the things that were upsetting you were not important compared to the real things in life like your love for her and your wish to make her happy.
Then piss down her leg.
This, Chris reasoned, would help her to understand the triviality of the argument by juxtaposing it with the seriousness of urinating down her good work clothes in the hallway.
Chris also advised that I found somewhere else to stay.