You get all kinds of advice, y'all, on how to have a happy marriage (Huffington Post says there are Thirteen Secrets to a Happy Marriage; WebMD says just two -- Be Nice and Don't Nitpick).
I am here to tell you there is one and only one true bone of contention in the Long Term Relationship.
It's the thermostat.
Y'all need to find someone whose blood runs at the same speed as your own.
Seriously, don't even mess with this one. You can negotiate a way to get the dishes done. You can figure out how to pay the bills. Children or no children, well, that's serious too, I agree, and probably a deal-breaker, but you'll handle it.
On the other hand: this morning I woke up and he had the thermostat at 74.
"What the shit, Dr. Skull!" I shouted.
He re-adjusted his headphones and turned the volume up on his fretless bass. (This is what I mean by negotiation, y'all. He loves to get up at three a.m. and play his guitars. His electric guitars. Loudly. We found a way around the problem. Through it is true that a new problem -- for me, at least -- ensued.)
"Take off the earphones! I know you can see me talking!"
"Are you making coffee, Boo-boo?" he shouted over the music. "Will you make some for me?"
"It's 80 degrees in here!" I shouted back. "Why did you put the heat so high!"
"I wrote a new song! Do you want to hear it?"
I stomped off to put the heat on 55. Which is where it should be. People aren't meant to be baking in the middle of winter! (Of course I'd also like the house to be at about 55 in the middle of summer, but that's another argument.)
I also made him some coffee, because I'm a good wife.
About an hour later, he came wandering out from his Man Cave, looking disgruntled. "It's freezing in here. What did you put the heat on?"
"Wear your slippers," I said sweetly. "It's the middle of winter."
3 hours ago