Let's start with hot sauce, shall we? If the question arose in the aisles of Harris Teeter whether we should buy Texas Pete's or Frank's Red Hot, my husband Ted quickly answered, "Both/and." After all, you could never have too much hot sauce, right? Right. It didn't take long for me to realize that Ted wasn't an either/or sort of guy. Nope, this man I'd pledged my life, love, and commitment to was a both/and kind of fellow. Well, at least in the innocuous matters of life like hot sauce, that is.
This both/and mentality of his not only affected our hot sauce buying practices, but also matters of feet and queen-sized sheets.
Since living and sleeping together were new to us both, we quickly discovered that each of us had a very different idea of the relationship between feet and sheets. Yep, you could say we hit one of those marital culture shock moments in our new union.
The thing was, Ted's feet ran hot. Twelve years later, they still do. (That is, unless he's coming down with something. If he suddenly dons wool socks, it's time to buy some Robitussin and brew some hot tea.) As a result of this "hot foot," as he calls it, he prefers to uncover his feet at night. Before climbing in bed, he walks to the end of the mattress and neatly folds the bottom of the covers up.
My feet run cold. Not only do I prefer to keep them covered at night, but I like to snuggly pull the sheets and blankets up under my feet. Kind of cocoon-ish like. Maybe one of these days I'll wake up with wings.
You'd think that this difference of ours – folding the covers back, tucking them under – would cause fights. And lots of them at that. But it hasn't. Not once in a dozen years.
I kind of am. At least, when I stop and think about it. After all, it's an argument just waiting to happen, right? Right.