Sometimes marriage gets muddied with the responsibilities of everyday life. We get married because life sounds better together and then we lament each others' (real or imagined) shortcomings.
Tonight, as I was madly looking around the house for some legal documents I had painstakingly edited in a 3 hour meeting (and stupidly, failed to copy, even though we have a copy feature on our printer), I realized I had looked everywhere and that the trash will be picked up tomorrow. My mom and I had spent nearly 4 hours of hard labor getting A's room clean (while tossing quite a lot in the process... hopefully my 8-year-old packrat isn't reading this), and Mr. K had cleaned the garage, and the kids had cleaned out the car, the garbage cans were overflowing and amidst the load of garbage were at least two bags of cat poo (gah!). Sadly, I concluded that that's where the pages must have ended up. Rather than flashing me a quick "sucks to be you" smirk and going on with his evening, Mr. K came outside and sorted through every last bag along with me only to find that the papers had fallen behind the computer desk but not before we were both elbow deep in indescribably nasty blech.
If that isn't love, I don't know what is. Once he washed his hands and forearms, he didn't even give me trouble about losing them in the first place. I hope I remember this the next time I'm feeling naggy. We aren't good at the same things. Luckily, we aren't bad at the same things either (OK... we could both use a healthy dose of gitoffyerass when it comes to chores) and when the rubber hits the road (or, in this case, when the poop hits the hands) we buoy each other -
and that, my friends, is a wonderful feeling!
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