open up a bit more

The day after Christmas.

Sounds almost like the opening title to a movie. Probably one that I would enjoy, but then I'm not really all that picky about what films I watch. I could see it either going comedy or action-thriller, but either way I'm pretty sure I'd check out, once it came to Netflix.

But this isn't a movie. It is really just a low-key and relaxing day. Nothing extraordinary has happened aside from the lovely 62ยบ we found outside with a few moments of beaming sunlight. A few times I felt like going outside, getting in the car, and putting all of the windows down and just driving around in what may prove to be the rarest of comfortably warm days this winter if the forecasters are to be believed.

Instead, I spent my day with my wife. Overall a good day, but we had our moments of picking and disagreement. It's rarely anything important, but it happens a lot. A question of "what are you doing" or "why did you do that" is answered with a snippy retort or a borderline indignant grunt. Neither of us means to say or do the things in any way that is negative, but for some reason in the moment of the event it is all too easy to forget to assume positive intent.

Although it may come as quite a surprise to you, I am an interestingly orderly person, diligently deliberate, and unfortunately picky about repetition. This does lead to some difficulties in certain relationships, none more so than with my wife. She is a thinker, a dreamer, getting lost in thought and forgetting what she meant to do before she makes it three feet from where the thought entered her mind.

We love each other deeply, but it is amazing how our habits can grate upon the other, pluck the strings, and torment our own senses of order. Often we resolve whatever little thing it is with a hug or words of love, but sometimes we can't easily because we're in different rooms or just disagree too much about the specific instance.

I've had the thought, once or twice, of what it might be like if we were on the same wavelength on more of these things. When we both remember where the spatulas go, only put shoes in designated places, and place dirty clothes in the hampers, things would be ideal... on the surface. But something would be missing, something about who we are separate from one another that makes the union more gratifying and enjoyable.

I'm glad we have our little differences, snap every now and then, and disagree about largely meaningless things. It reminds me of how petty those things are because I know when I look at her that I am in love, maybe more so because of those times.

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