I believe it is traditional to ask a newly married woman, How are you adjusting? I have been asked that a few times.

I am adjusting fine.

When the alarm goes off, I say “good morning” to his chest. He says “good morning” to my forehead. And then we go brush our teeth.

I find his socks everywhere. They are on the front porch. They are shoved under the bathroom cabinet. They are breeding on the top shelf of the closet. They are behind the refrigerator. A few pairs are in his sock drawer. I used to ask him, “How did this sock end up here?” Now I don’t ask. If it isn’t in my way where it is, I leave it. Someday he’ll wonder where all his socks went and he’ll gather them up from all corners of the house. If it bothers me where it is, I pick it up and soak it in vinegar. Vinegar gets rid of bad smells. I love Steven, but his feet are vinegar-worthy.

I know how I feel all the time. I have feelings all the time. Steven, on the other hand, can receive information and not have feelings about it. It is astounding to me. It makes me want to dissect his brain. He takes the information and mulls over it when it is convenient. Then, two days later, Presto! He has a well-baked opinion.

Boys don’t care if the house is clean when their friends come over. I don’t care if the house is clean when his friends come over. But when my friends come over, the socks had better magically migrate to the dirty laundry basket. The house had better sparkle and smell like roses. Here is the concise version of the discussion we had on this topic:

“If they come over, and the house is a wreck, that’s all I’m thinking about!”

“That does not make sense,” Steven says. “Just don’t think about it.”

“It makes sense to me,” I say. “This is my house!”

“OK fine. It doesn’t make sense. But I’ll pick up my socks.”

“Thank you.” That is all I wanted. Because, in the end, I’ll never really understand him. He’ll never really understand me. Because we are from two very different planets. I don’t understand, but I appreciate. His socks smell because he wears them all day to work. And he is a hard worker. I can appreciate that. And I am in a tizzy over the house, but he says he loves coming home to a wife and a house that smells good. He doesn’t get it, but he appreciates it. He even lights candles when he comes home now. I appreciate the ambience. He appreciates the chance to play with fire. We both get what we want. Marriage.