When Two Stubborn Hearts Become One.

My husband and I, like so many couples that stay together, have become annoyingly alike in our years together.
We disagree frequently, mind you, no marriage is without some opposition.

I think the couch is appealing and diverse with different colored pillows, he thinks they should be all the same color, shade and style for the sake of conformity.
(one guess as to who won THAT one....)

He thinks I should drink water instead of coffee in the afternoon, I think he should mind his own damn business.

Marriage. It's give and take, and at the end of everyday you just thank your lucky stars that you have someone who is willing to love you through sickness, depravity, and another year of American Idol.

But, back to the point I've so gracefully sidestepped.

When you're around someone as much as you're around a spouse, you find all those little irritating habits rubbing off on you. Eleven years ago I would have probably made a face at the idea of eating peppers with salt as a 'snack'. Yet, now I kind of like them because that hunk of a man I live with eats them. And let's just say if you've ever kissed a man with jalepeno breath and found that appealing, there is something wrong with you.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Let's flip back to annoyances, shall we? Those delicious little differences that add spice to every relationship. Peeves, if you will.

(I have many, by the way, but we're not going there today, sorry.)

I find it incredibly ridiculous that my husband will drop his smelly, dirty socks on the floor next to the hamper rather than wasting two additional seconds to drop them in it. (He fixed that one, by the way, after some incredibly kind and loving coaxing from me. *ahem*)

The biggest of all peeves for me, however, is all the little catch phrases that Gene says differently than other people do. The highlight of these joyful tidbits of literary expressions is a little thing he likes to say when we're watching a movie or listening to a story when an intruiging twist appears.

"oooOoooOO." he says. "Honey, look, The plot sickens."

Ugh. Makes my skin crawl.

"NO, Sweetie" I argue for the hundred thousandth time. "It's THICKENS."

He just smiles and averts back to whatever entertainment currently became more 'sickening'.

I can google it, chat it up with random strangers in bars, and implore to God above the true phrasing of the interjection, and no matter who replies that it is in fact "thickens"; My fantastic and handsome husband will just smile and shrug.

Ah, the sweet smell of disparity. If I ignore this one, small infraction of our similarity, he will ignore my occasional grumpy outbursts and my tendency to get hyper at the oddest of late-night hours. Fair enough, right?

Well, about two months ago I was curled up on the big comfy leather couch at my parents house watching a movie with my mom and eating some form of sugar with my wine. I can't remember what movie we were enjoying, but that could be partially due to the headache I had in the morning and the empty wine bottle I groaned at when I woke up. Regardless, the plot of said fantastic film (whatever it was) took a sudden thrilling plunge in another direction. Complete with the sporadic, eerie change in tone of the music that is so common, and of course the ominous glance between protagonists as the viewers lean forward in anticipation.

"OoooOooo, Mom." I say in a semi-wine-induced stupor. "Look, mom, the plot sickens."

(ohhhhh......#@!&@#!!!!!!)

Well. I guess I'll have to start forgiving my husband if he gets a fit of the giggles at 2am now, won't I.