I don’t know much about other people’s husbands, but I know mine pretty well. We’ve know each other since high school. We’ve been married for twenty years and we have five kids together. I love him with all my heart and couldn’t imagine my life without him but he does many things that are perplexing to me. I believe part of the trick to this marriage thing is to overlook your partners oddities and imperfections and hope that they do the same for you. That being said, I still pause in confusion from time to time wondering what makes him tick and how we can operate so differently when it comes to simple little things.

First thing up… grocery shopping. He and I have a very different take on how this works. I try to decide what meals I can make from what I buy while I’m still in the store so I have everything I need and don’t have to go back to the store. He buys things he likes to eat and figures I’ll work out the details later. He has a particular penchant for tomatoes and avocados. We are starting an aging avocados exhibit in our refrigerator and there are two more hard as a rock numbers sitting on the counter.

Dressers are unnecessary. Any flat surface will do. Drawers are close to empty. Top of the dresser has a pile of clean, folded clothes two feet tall.

Then, there is the eating the leftovers phobia. He seems to figure out how to avoid clean-out-the-fridge night almost every time. He has a real knack for it. And he somehow thinks making a sandwich out of brand new lunch meat is just as helpful as eating up the three day old chili.

I do most of the household chores in our house which is fine. I am home all day so I switch the laundry loads and clean the kitchen the most. My kids help when they are here with what they are able to do and for the most part they do what they are asked. I do wish, however, that on those occasions when Andrew is here and pitching in getting the mess under control, I could decide which exact bandwagon he is going to jump on. He has, on more than one occasion, walked past the sink full of dishes, the dirty bathroom and the pile of unfolded laundry to clean the doorknobs or wipe the banisters because they are sticky. That’s what bothers you? It’s not that those things don’t ever need doing but those are not the things that jump out at me. And they’re not the first source of embarrassment should company arrive.

One more thing, so I don’t make him feel bad. I did mention that I love him, right? He often — he hates it when I say always — waits until I am barely conscious and I’m working up the gumption to stand and go up to bed, before he decides he wants to talk about the state of the world and where our lives are going. I can barely have a thought but he is raring to go. He didn’t want to talk before that because he was unwinding from the day watching the one hour of television we manage to watch together before I can’t stay awake. At least he wants to talk to me. I’m not complaining. Really! Ok, maybe I am a little. I don’t claim perfection by any means. Love you dear.