Me: “Since there’s no school Tuesday, I was thinking about getting all the children to help me paint one of the walls.”
Doug: His control-freak alarm bells are ringing so loudly that I could hear them. “Umm, maybe they would have more fun spending the day at the school playground. Everyone could wear Obama shirts.”
Me: “That would upset other people and that is not fun.”
Doug: “Well, maybe they should do something that has to do with the election or presidents. Maybe visit the Obama Headquarters or something.”
Me: “We will use paint that’s a shade of red, white or blue. That’s presidential.”
Doug: Imagining paint everywhere EXCEPT the wall. “I think we should think about this some more before we decide.
Me: “Okay. You do that.”
Doug probably sent a desperate plea out over the IRC: “Help me distract my wife from painting the walls. She’ll do it wrong. Doesn’t anyone need her at some campaign event?”

Me: “Wait a minute. I need to change the music.”
Doug: “It will wait.”
Me: “No. David Lee Roth is playing and I just can’t allow him in this room right now.”
Doug: “What?!?”
Me: “David Lee Roth. Yuck. I need different music.”
Doug: “Are you thinking about the musician or me?”
Me: “You and the musician who is serenading us.”
Doug: “This is completely insane.”
Me: “I don’t care. Change to music by someone who isn’t gross.”

A few nights ago, I sat in bed watching television while Doug slept beside me. A dog sleeping horizontally while another dog slept diagonally over both adults AND the horizontal dog made movement impossible. The stillness of the evening was broken when a giant tarantula appeared on the overcrowded bed. No, it wasn’t a tarantula. It was a Brown Recluse. In my hypochondriac mind, all spiders are suspect of being Brown Recluses who will cause your flesh to rot away and leave a section of delicate bone exposed for other spiders to burrow inside and lay eggs. Okay, maybe it was just a daddy-long-legs spider. It’s still a horrible thing to have approaching you when you are pinned down by two large German Shepherds. I whisper screamed, “Spider!” A whisper scream is that voice you use when you are sitting at a funeral and you need Great Aunt Whats-Her-Name to capture one of your children who is escaping by crawling under the pews. At my hysterical spider announcement, Doug bolted out of bed to a standing position, kicking the smaller dog to the floor in the process. Doug morphed from Brock Sampson to Doctor Venture and collapsed on the concrete slab that is our bedroom floor. While Doug writhed on the floor in some sleep induced seizure, I stood up in the bed, flinging the blanket across the room and waking the bigger dog, who lazily rolled to the floor and went back to sleep. Doug stammered questions as he tried to gain control of his newly bruised body. “Where? What spider?” I danced from toe to toe on the bed, like a cartoon character who has seen a mouse. “It was on the bed! Get it!” I saw Arachnophobia and I know that spiders are relentless hunters of humans. “Wake me when you find it again.” Doug collapsed and resumed snoring in a single movement. I stomped all over the bed with a flashlight, searching for the multi-legged intruder. I followed this with several minutes of shaking and beating the blanket to remove anything holding on, planning to crawl in my ear while I slept. Eventually, I settled in bed with every edge of the blanket vacuum sealed under my body to prevent any creepy-crawlies from nesting in my hair. Blanketless, like cheese on a mousetrap, Doug stretched out peacefully and continued snoring.

I’m sick. Runny/stuffy nose, sore throat, headache, coughing, tired and aching sick. A few days ago, I sneezed without covering my mouth. It was rude, disgusting and wet. A mist of germs sprayed in every direction. Doug tried to pretend he didn’t notice. His eyes rolled toward his damp arms and I could see his mind trying to figure out how he could sanitize his arms without my noticing. Amy chirped, “It felt like it was raining in here.”

Doug failed to clean his arms and he has the cold now too. Yesterday we tried to out-whine each other for first turn at a nap. “My head hurts. I just need a quick nap.” “My head hurts and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.” “Last night when you couldn’t quit coughing, I got you a drink.” “Last night when I couldn’t quit coughing, I peed myself.” “Enjoy your nap.”

Monday is Doug and I’s anniversary. We’ll probably celebrate by giving each other a kiss on the cheek as we pass each other on the staircase. We see each other several times a day when Doug comes up from his dungeon to get a fresh pot of coffee and I walk down to move laundry from the washing machine to the dryer. Otherwise, it’s all Skype and Twitter. Twitter people get queasy if someone tweets about adult activities during office hours, but we could probably get away with some racey Skype interaction. Just in case we have 3- 13 minutes alone and uninterrupted by urgent phone calls, I washed Doug’s favorite marital aids today. “Wait, my leg went numb. Maybe if I bend like this.” “Ow, you’re cutting off my circulation.” “Okay, maybe if I lean here I could, ouch - I’m getting a cramp like this.” “Here, try putting this here and that there.” “Oh, yes. That feels so much better.”

The pillows are clean and fluffy for propping up middle aged body parts. In seemingly unrelated news, Doug thinks he’s going to go for a run every night.

On July 4, 1997 I packed three children (then 7, 4, & 1) and a dog into a small car and moved from Atlanta to Knoxville. My now ex-husband moved from Atlanta to Boston because he needed some time for himself. He was “tired of everything always being about the children and decisions being so life or death.” He thought his paychecks should be spent on his wants and not anyone else’s. He said he just needed a year or two. He neglected to mention that he was looking forward to finally meeting the woman he had been talking to on the Internet for months. They are still living together, but her husband refuses to agree to their divorce paperwork as long as my ex is still in her life. I wasn’t the only spouse they burned when they got together in a chat room. I arrived in Knoxville in the afternoon and immediately took the children to watch fireworks.

I stumbled around in a daze for a year. Searching for purpose, I went back to college. I already had a bachelor’s degree in Sociology and Psychology, but I felt like I was skilled to do nothing. In one of my classes I met a woman who understood me. We had very similar personalities, but our lives had taken different paths. She was newly married to a man who was very thoughtful and carefully planning their future. I was in the middle of a divorce from a man who only thought about himself and considered the children property. She and her husband saw an opportunity to help me. They had a friend named Doug whose wife had just left him for another man, because Doug was trying to start his own business when she just wanted to travel and party. His ex was very twisted, but that’s his story to tell. In what now seems like really twisted logic, they decided that Doug and I really needed to get together to satisfy some umm, primal urges and thus make each other happier beings.

We nervously dated. Doug told me all of his jokes the first hour we spent together. I found him charming and quite attractive. As we dated, a pattern emerged. Doug was late for lunch because he saw a stranded motorcyclist and towed them to a gas station. Doug went to help friends with this and that and even total strangers. He literally gave people the shirt off his back. I don’t have enough words to describe how compassionate and caring Doug is toward all people. His only shortcomings are in the way he feels about himself.

Somehow, this wonderful and amazing man fell in love with me. Three years ago we were sitting in his living room watching all the neighborhood children play in the cove. He said, “I want it to be like this every day. Let’s get married. Let’s get married tomorrow.” We drove to Gatlinburg the next morning and got married. We spent that afternoon moving the children and all of our stuff into his already full house. Someday we’ll have a belated honeymoon and take a weekend someplace alone. Doug makes me feel loved like I have never felt in my life. He is my very best friend. He continues his love of life and I continue my efforts to hold up a mirror so that he can see how truly wonderful he really is. He loves the three children that came into this marriage as much as the new people we made together. Despite the fact that one of the children has special needs, he tirelessly devotes himself to being a good husband and father. Thank you Doug. I love you very much. Happy Anniversary.