Really?

I’ve lived with several roommates in my young adulthood.  In college I lived with two of my very best friends, and after a year with each we were arduously struggling to maintain tolerance in a fruitless effort to preserve a friendship. Marriage does not come with the option of a different lease agreement. Having lived with my husband for six years, I’m often left scratching my head, mulling over an internal dialogue of, “Really?” Is he REALLY doing this again, is he REALLY leaving his socks lumped on the floor… again. Really? And so, I’ve created a list of those head scratching moments that make me question how I’ll ever survive living with an eternal roommate.

Things that I abhor about sharing my space:

1.       When, after having spent hours scouring the house and leaving a mass of gleaming façades, I find coffee rings in the kitchen, in the office and on the bathroom counter.

2.       Finding his suits, belts, ties, and dress shoes strew around as though some phantom hurricane ripped them from his body.

3.       Constant reminders that emptying his pockets at will on any available surface is purely unacceptable.

4.       Having to repeat (on a daily basis) that beard shavings should be washed DOWN the sink, and not simply splashed around in a pitiful attempt to rinse the basin.

5.       The perpetual search for the toothpaste cap which, by-the-way, belongs ON the tube.

6.       Reminders that his soaked gym clothing should NOT be put in MY lovely linen laundry hamper in the bedroom, but rather should be hung to dry on the plastic hamper downstairs… before I wash them for him.

7.       The horror of finding that, in an attempt to “do something nice”, he’s washed my white blouses with his greasy, mud-stained jeans… and has thrown them all in the dryer.

8.       Explaining, again, that he’s NEVER to touch my laundry… or the girls’ laundry. Ever.

9.       The perpetual debate that throwing dishes into kitchen sink just isn’t quite the same as rinsing them and throwing them into the dishwasher.

10.   The perpetual debate over my perceived importance of “processing” items one through nine.

And, here is a list of the heartwarming ones that make me eternally grateful for my eternal roommate.

Things that I adore about sharing my space:

1.       When, after a long or demanding day, I have a partner in crime to help heard our whirling dervishes to the dinner table.

2.       The way Alexa shakes with pure, unparalled glee when he jumps from behind the couch to startle her.

3.       How he will, without hesitation, allow Olivia to paint his nails and prance around with a fairy tutu on his head.

4.       The fact that Liv has a ride upstairs to bed.  Every night.  Without fail.

5.       The fact that he would give me a ride, too, if I asked.

6.       His ability to make me feel safe, and how he would never allow me to walk on the outside of the road shoulder.

7.       His amazing ability to fix nearly everything, and the incredible efforts he’s put into learning how to fix the things that he can’t.

8.       The way he will pose with a forced smile for ONE MORE photo, though it’s fundamentally unimportant to him, just because he knows it’s fundamentally important to me.

9.       That he will give me control of the remote, nearly every day, without complaining.

10.   The way he stills looks at me, as though I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, despite my frazzled hair, oversized sweatpants and the baby on my hip. And when I ask him, “Will you love me forever, really?”, he says “Yes, really.” Every time.