For better, for worse…
For richer, for poorer…
In sickness and in health…
Anyway, I’ve come to realize, after 15 years of marriage, there needs to be an additional section in the vows where your beloved has to lay all their cards on the table, all those annoying habits and weird nuances, giving us all a little pre-warning upfront of the future we face.
Now I could talk about farting, clothes on the floor, and the likes, but those are the obvious issues one faces with a husband. I mean these.
1. Your future husband does not share your obsession to detail.
IP doesn’t usually carry cash. He’ll use the debit card if he’s out and needs to buy gas, pick up lunch, etc. He tries to remember to tell me when he’s done this, so I can write it in the checkbook. This is our typical conversation.
“I bought gas today.”
“How much was it?”
“57.87 or 57.07. I don’t know. 57 something.”
I’m one of those ‘balance the checkbook to the exact penny’ people. 57 something doesn’t go in evenly into my calculator. I’m also not ok if you say 57.87 and it really turns out to be 57.07. So, I end up digging through this.
Silver lining….at least he keeps them. Plus, while I’m trying to figure out the something missing from the 57, I usually find the lunch receipt he forgot to tell me about too.
2. Your beloved is a tree-hugger….sort of.
Everyone goes green in their own way. I’m all about recycling and saving the environment. I have an extra weekly recycling bin and try to recycle everything that I can. But I do have limits. IP is convinced that you cannot throw batteries away when they die; that they will hurt the landfill. When batteries die in our house, they go here.
What, you say? You don’t have years worth of batteries lying around in your basement? What kind of person are you???
3. Your betrothed adheres to a strict “waste not, want not” philosophy on everything….well except one thing.
IP will wear the same shoes for years. He’ll scrap the bottom of jars to get out every last bit. He’ll drink the last…um wait, scratch that. IP’s taste buds believe that, despite when it was originally opened, the last few fingers of a 2 liter bottle of pop are flat, fizz-less, tasteless, potentially deadly, and, therefore, unconsumable. I frequently come home from work and find this scenario in my fridge.
Somehow, I have managed not to die my drinking the last of all of these 2 liters. It’s a miracle!
For better, for worse
For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and in health
In lost receipts and missing digits,
Knee-deep in dead batteries,
In flat, fizz-less soda,
Til death do us part
(Anyone see Donnie Wahlberg yet? No?)