MG and I have a great relationship. We've been married for almost four years now and we are still very much in love and very happy together.
I think we compliment each other very nicely. His calm, cool demeanor is balanced with my hyperactive maniacal anxiety. I have greatly benefited from his diverse knowledge and appreciation of music while I think he would agree that he has benefited from my ability to coordinate his work outfits.
Khaki pants with a khaki shirt? No. White button down shirt with faded blue windbreaker pants? Are you serious?
But like every couple - there are some things we still need to work on.
And with the risk of sounding absolutely crazy (which I admittedly am) let me tell you about one of the "sticky" areas of our marriage.
It has to do with what is allowed to leave the kitchen.
Let's say, for example, you were running late for work, so you decide to pack your cereal and eat it at your desk when you get to your office.
What would you do?
I would throw some cereal in Rubbermaid container, seal it with a lid, pour some milk into one of the 3,472 re-usable water bottles we own and grab a plastic spoon from the drawer.
What would MG do?
He would take the ENTIRE box of cereal, the ENTIRE gallon of milk, one of my precious Fiestaware bowls and one of the nice spoons from our expensive silverware set.
And then he would leave everything at work for 4 months.
So then next morning, when I go downstairs to eat breakfast - there will be no cereal and no milk in the kitchen.
Me: "Honey, where is the cereal and the milk?"
MG: "We ran out."
This has happened several times over the past four years. And list of things he has taken from the kitchen includes an entire NEW bottle of ketchup, a bottle of pancake syrup, a package of cheese, and countless dishes, spoons and forks.
And I don't mean stupid cheap-o plastic dishes. I mean the nice dishes and nice silverware!
Every few weeks, when I go to make a cup of coffee to take to work and complain about the 8 missing travel mugs he will make an effort to round up all of wayward dishes in his office.
Sometimes it takes TWO Wal-Mart bags to carry them all home.
So imagine my frustration when I found the Fiestaware butter spreader in the bag of dirty dishes he brought home a few weeks ago.
I then repeated my rant about not removing special dishes from our house. We have plastic knives that would have worked just as well!
The discovery of the butter spreader also prompted me to count all the cutlery.
There were 12 knives, 12 big spoons, 12 little spoons, 12 big forks and 11 little forks....
11? Uh oh.
I ask MG about the 12th little fork and he swears he doesn't have it. He SWEARS that it isn't in his office. I search the kitchen, the dishwasher, the couch but I cannot find the 12th little fork.
So through gritted teeth I mumble something about how he owes me a new set of silverware and threaten to stab him in the thigh if I DO find that little fork in his office...
Today, as I am running errands around campus I pop in MG's office to say hello. And as we are chatting I absentmindedly begin opening and closing his desk drawers.
What can I say? I'm nosey.
And in the third drawer a glint of silver catches my eye:
Upon closer inspection I discover...
the 12th little fork*
Now please excuse me while I drive MG to the Emergency room.**
*The tiny green spoon next to the little fork is one of Picklebug's baby spoons. I noticed this morning that some of the baby spoons seem to be missing. Of course, MG denied having any at work...
What grown man needs a baby spoon at work?
**No thighs were actually stabbed upon the discovery of the 12th little fork.