Thoughts on marriage

So now that I'm pretty much a pro at being married (2 months, 1 day, ka-chow!) I would like to talk about this thing a bit. It's been interesting after years and years and then some more years of wondering how and if this would ever, ever, ever happen, to find how easy and normal the transition has been so far. (Note, Universe, that I said "SO FAR" and therefore do NOT need to be struck down for hubris, thank you muchly. Please save that for someone who actually deserves it. I'm sure you can find someone. Check the banks.)

Of course, it does help that I married a great guy. I know everyone says that but I don't think it's always true. I know women who blog about how their husbands are great when really they're just dill-weed jerks. But like you can start a blog entitled "My Husband is a Dill-Weed Jerk and I Wish Someone Had Maybe Pointed This Out to Me Before I Bound Myself to Him Forever, Not That I Would Have Listened." So let me assure you that GH really is good. He is so good that he will wait until I am gone to eat kettle corn so that I do not vomit from the scent or even the idea of kettle corn's disgusting sweet filth wrongness.

It's funny how living in such close quarters with another person teaches you certain things about yourself. For instance, I now know that I apparently have quite strong morning breath. Morning breath so bad, in fact, that it smells like poop. No wait, sorry, it doesn't smell like poop, it's more like what you smell when you walk into the bathroom after someone who has pooped.

Because that's totally better.

So yeah, there are adjustments to living with someone. In fact, now that I remember my past of living with about 42 other people, it was always after the 2 month point that roommate issues would start to crop up and tensions would rise. So it could be that a week from now I will blog to say that I could just not take the whiskers from GH's electric razor on my bathroom counter anymore and so I killed him and fed his remains to my neighbor's dog. And THEN just for spite I killed the dog with my breath. That or seduced him. I don't know which way it will go.

I've gotten used to the fact that my bathroom will never again not smell like boy. GH has learned not to say a word when it's my turn to do dishes and instead I let them sit in the sink for 2 days while I dirty up yet more dishes. (Hi, dishes suck. Also, like the kitchen could ever smell as bad as the bathroom.) Sometimes he will fabulously just do them for me when it reaches that point.

I am learning how to cook without onion (NOT easy, since pretty much everything good calls for onion), and on the days when I, um, forget, GH doesn't make an issue of it. He just picks at his food like a kicked puppy. On the other hand, dude will eat Brussel Sprouts and all manner of vegetables. And then take seconds. Which pretty much makes my loins go up in flames.

I have almost come to accept that we will go into debt supporting GH's Irish Springs habit, even though I have no idea how he goes through a whole bar of soap in 1 week. He, in turn, has stopped wondering aloud how how I make a bottle of Body Shop Satsuma shower gel last 2 years. It's called a loofah, friend.

And, you know, sometimes not bathing.