I once commented that if I were late coming home, my husband wouldn’t notice until his sock drawer was running low, but as time went on, my husband began proving me wrong in the most annoying of ways, calling my cell phone as I was nearing the house, usually about the time I was trying to pull into the driveway or back into the garage to tell me that I was five minutes late.  I longed for the days when I had once complained in jest that he didn’t care about me.  The unappreciated days when he would get dressed late in the evening and head out with his friends not to return or call until several hours had gone by.  Twenty years later, this same man never leaves the house.  I would give anything to have that thoughtless, inconsiderate man back for a short visit, just to see if his absence would be noticeable, let alone infuriating the way it had once been.  As it stands now, I would gladly trade places with the girl I used to be who wasted all that time he was out of the house worrying about him rather than enjoying the peace and quiet.  I tease that I miss his drinking days, asking, “Don’t you wanna go on a bender?”  But he just rolls his eyes and switches the TV station.  If I were to ever pass the living room and not hear the TV on, I would assume it was either broken or stolen.  

The best investment I ever made was the intercom system.  Every married couple should have one.  It’s like buying a volume button for your husband.  When he’s really hard to get along with, there’s also an off button.   When I feel like teasing my husband, I tell him he’s only good for a few things, namely killing flies during supper, reaching that incredibly high and inconvenient cabinet over the refrigerator, and the occasional, stubborn pickle jar.  Whenever we’re arguing, I carefully remind my husband that he could easily be replaced by a flyswatter, a step-stool, and one of those round, rubber things in the utility drawer.   When my husband tells me he’s done something or bought me something he thinks is much nicer than I do, I tease with an exaggerated southern accent, “Oh, Earl, you spurl me!”