Fun with husbands

Ah, on the heels of yet another article about this much-debated non-marriage movement in the U.S., I find myself thinking about my own dear house-bond.

When I think about him, mostly I laugh. That's because he's damn funny. Not always deliberately, of course.

I go on these sprees where I get obsessive about something and I'm fixated on it for days. Often, this OCD-fest has to do with the house. Like the time I decided I needed a sewing room and nearly lost my hands--and my sanity--putting together the IKEA "sewing centre."

Or recently I've gone on a minimalist binge (can a minimalist "binge"?), where I'm taking down all of the nick-nacks on the fireplace mantle, piano, shelves, etc. I used to rearrange them, but lately I've just been putting them away (in my "sewing centre," incidentally).

The first day I did Operation Nick-Nack Removal, my husband came home, looked around, and asked me, "Are we moving?"

When he left that morning, it was happily and colourfully cluttered. He came home to post-Grinch Whoville. And still the de-cluttering continues. (The real problem is that our fireplace is hideous, so really we should just damn-well get it re-faced. But that's not scheduled until After the Kitchen Reno (2010), After Completion of Current Bathroom Reno (2008) and After We Have Kids Maybe (it'll have to be some time before 2012ish).)

Or just now, my husband comes home and starts talking to me as soon as he gets in the door and I tell him to hush because he's interrupting my writing. Of a blog post. About him. And how much I love him.

We talk a lot about how marriage can be hard on a woman. But husbands take a lot of flack too. I'm not sure why they don't harp on it more. I mean, come on now, join us here in Complaintsville once in a while. We know you've got it bad sometimes. We're the ones doing it to you!

God love ya.