They say opposites attract.
And Wonderhubby and I are obviously the poster children.
I am short. He is tall.
I am complicated. He is what-you-see-is-what-you-get.
I grew up in a world of privilege. He grew up in a world of less.
I am perfectly happy to sit and do nothing. He isn't happy unless he is DOING something.
I am missing the cleaning gene. He is ... well, I guess we're not TOTAL opposites!
I am a night owl who can survive on minimal sleep. He is an early-morning guy who actually does the math, working backwards to make sure he knows what time to go to sleep so he gets his requisite 6 1/2 to 8 hours.
My witching hour is 11 p.m. He is sawing logs usually well before 10.
But we don't lose touch with each other. I may be up later, but I'm still next to him in bed while he sleeps -- and our feet touch.
It's just that I like to have the television on. He likes to be able to sleep.
Surprisingly, I like to be able to actually HEAR the show I'm watching. And he likes to turn the sound down.
I hold the remote in my hand with my thumb on the volume button because -- guaranteed -- the commercials are louder than the show and will jolt WH from his slumber.
We both hate this.
So ... my very special husband bought us a present last week.
Well, it was for me -- but it benefits him.
TV wireless ears.
You may totally insert your eyeroll here. Yes, it's geeky. Yes, it's weird. But I'll be damned: I can hear EVERYTHING -- and he hears nothing.
So we look a little like this ...
... Except for the part where I'M the one watching TV and HE'S the one sleeping.
Oh, and also except for the part where I can't stand having that thing hanging under my chin, so I push it on TOP of my head. (Sorry, no photos. You'll have to use your imagination to figure out exactly how nerdy this truly is.)
But it's the perfect answer to our opposites world.
So each night, I now plug myself in. He snuggles under the blankets and prepares for the sand man to take him away.
I lean over to kiss him goodnight ...
... And the TV ears fall forward off the top of my head and smack him in the face.
Ha. And they say romance is dead.