I like the way you do that

Whether you've had the best or worst day, any day can be improved by crisp, cold beer. I know I look forward to it. Once I've made my way home through the grubby city, changed from my little work costume into my real clothes, and walked and fed the dog, it's time to officially begin enjoying my free time.

I always wait for the husband to get home before cracking open the first beer. This does not entail extreme willpower, as he generally arrives about 45 minutes after I do. Before I start dinner, we sink into the sofa for however long it takes to drink one beer. This is like the "page break" of our day: complete separation from work to home has commenced.

The other night I opened the fridge to pull out two beers and found myself looking upon row after tidy row of beers, lined up perfectly with their labels facing out.


If you know me, you know there is no way I would ever take the time to do this. I'm a bit more, um, casual, and tend to chuck the six or twelve-pack into the fridge, carton and all. This of course helps no one, as at some point you have to get down on your knees and wrestle with the packaging just to get your damn beer out. But I'm fairly lazy in this regard. So, anyone familiar with the two of us could peek at this careful array and know who was responsible.

"I like the way you do that," I said to the husband.

"What's that?" he replied.

"This. The beer thing."

The husband is a former librarian. In addition to lining up the beers, he also likes cds to stay in alphabetical order and books on shelves to be pulled out the the edge instead of pushed to the wall. Every morning, he lays out the paper in a particular way that I've grown very fond of, because truthfully, it really does make it easier to assess all the parts and decide what you want to read. My method is to rifle through it and pull out the section I want, then leave the rest in a sloppy pile. Are you starting to get the breakdown of how things work in our place?

For some reason, seeing the neat rows of beers the other night pleased me immensely. I like being reminded of the ways we're different. When you've been with someone for a long time, not only do you inevitably become more similar, but you expect to stop noticing the little things you once thought were charming, or different, or funny. It's nice to know they can still sneak up on you.