This is the medicine cabinet in our guest bath. This is also how I know my husband loves me. Unconditionally.
Whoever first said that marriage would be filled with compromises and giving, they were spot on. Because, while this medicine cabinet would give you the idea that I’m getting my way… all ways, every way, everyday…. I’m not. Nowhere close to it. What you don’t see in this picture is the “Alex effect” on our common dwelling.
For every tiny little oasis of Type A heaven, my home has a chaotic corner of Type B madness. You know, a little thing I like to call a great, big, unkempt mess. But I’m not here to complain about how my husband is one of the messiest people I’ve ever met.
I’m here to discuss that whole compromise bit. Marriage isn’t fair so don’t believe anyone who tells you it is. Sometimes, nobody wins. Case in point: In my childhood dreams of my “grown up home”, my house wouldn’t have a single chaotic corner of unkempt mess. Everything I organized would stay that way, everything would have a place, and every square inch would stay spotless…. always. We’ve both moved to the middle on the whole house bit. I try not to freak out whenever the house begins to unravel. He makes an amazing effort to drop everything and help me clean when he sees that I’m beginning to feel anxious about it. It’s not an even middle. Sometimes “the middle” is more to the left, sometimes it’s to the right.
But when I look at the Alex effect on our house, I don’t get angry. I take it in stride. I find comfort in it. Because it reminds me that he’s here. Right here with me. Because, in my childhood dreams, in that house I told you about, Alex doesn’t live there. And because I’d much rather live with Alex than have that spotless house. These are my adulthood dreams.
I like to think he feels the same way about my nail polish collection.