There’s a saying in my family: “If you could see through my eyes, you’d understand how extraordinary he is.” My grandmother would claim this whenever someone dared to criticize my grandfather. Their love was truly something special.
I think everyone deserves to experience such profound love—a bond so strong that it allows for the imperfections we all have. Take my husband, Tom, for instance.
While he can magically locate the TV remote (even from under the couch cushions), household objects seem to disappear from his radar.
“Where’s the flashlight?” he’ll ask.
“In the utility drawer.”
“No, it’s not. I checked.”
So, I hit pause on our show, put down my drink, and get up to retrieve the flashlight for him. “Yes, it is.”
“Oh. I didn’t see it.”
This scenario plays out a dozen times a day with dish towels, pens, and spatulas. It’s as if he believes in household fairies—the Soap Fairy who magically refills the hand soap, or the Toilet Paper Fairy who replaces the empty rolls. Apparently, he thinks they’re doing all the chores around here!
Here are some more of his endearing quirks that I graciously tolerate:
- Bedtime Battles: Our bed can feel like a wrestling ring. Tom must think he’s training for a ninja competition since he throws his arms around in his sleep, often hitting me. I’ve tried building a fortress of pillows to keep my distance, but his restless leg syndrome means that I frequently wake up, convinced we’re experiencing an earthquake—only to find it’s just him kicking the mattress.
- Dish Dilemmas: Why is it a Herculean task to put dirty dishes in the sink or dishwasher? Coffee cups are scattered throughout the house, snack containers linger by the couch, and dirty dishes pile up on the counter. It’s as if there’s an invisible forcefield preventing him from taking the two extra steps to the sink. Oh wait, I may be guilty of this too. Never mind.
- Laundry Lapses: Despite his high school basketball prowess, Tom seems to be unable to score a basket when it comes to getting his socks and underwear into the hamper. Instead, clothes accumulate around the hamper, the bathroom floor, and even next to the dresser. I’ve toyed with the idea of installing a scoreboard on the hamper to encourage better habits.
- Laundry Catastrophes: One time, he accidentally ruined my beloved sweater by washing it with a new pair of jeans. The blue dye left it looking like it had shed tears. Since then, he has declared, “I can never do laundry again,” and he hasn’t. Luckily, he never complains when I have to rewash loads I’ve forgotten or when he has to scavenge for clean clothes in the laundry room.
- Gas Explosions: Tom’s gas is no minor issue; it’s more like a seismic event that shakes the furniture and could probably register on a Richter scale. Our kids have learned to steer clear of him, as the sheer force can knock them over. I believe a new term is in order—perhaps “Fartlosion” or “Colon Quake”?
- Thunderous Snoring: And let’s not forget the snoring! My husband’s snoring can only be described as a human chainsaw. It’s so loud that our son even asked to change rooms since it disturbs his sleep. I’ve resorted to buying earplugs in bulk and often wonder how we haven’t received complaints from our neighbors. On the bright side, I don’t need to pay for a vibrating bed; I already have one!
I know I’m not the easiest person to live with, either. Just the other day, when I asked Tom what I could improve about myself, he handed me a cup of coffee and said, “Nothing at all. You have no quirks.” So, maybe he is perfect—perfectly imperfect for me.
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In summary, love means tolerating those quirks that come with the package. It’s these little idiosyncrasies that make our lives colorful and our bond stronger.