"You are neurotic, you know," my husband complained. He crouched on his hands and knees, wiping the floor with a wet rag. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Umm, I think it's around eleven thirty," I mumbled. I wiped a stray piece of hair from my eyes and scrubbed a sticky spot behind the fridge.
"Why do we have to do this tonight?" he continued, "What's the big emergency?"
"Ben," I said quietly, "You said you would help me do this. I want to get it done before Christmas. If we don't wash the floor tonight, when else will we have a chance?"
"Why does it have to happen before Christmas? Just so you can check one more item off your almighty list?"
"No," I said. I paused from my work and sat back on my haunches, "I just want to have a clean floor because people will be coming to visit this week. Is that really so weird?"
(Three separate families had dropped by our house unexpectedly that very night. Sure, it was nice to feel popular. It was less nice that my house was in total disarray because I was preparing to wash the floor.)
"Don't you think it's more than a little odd that we're moving the piano and inhaling floor polish fumes at a quarter-to-twelve on a Thursday night?! I can think of much better things we could be doing at a quarter-to-twelve!" Ben paused, "You're neurotic!"
I sighed dramatically and turned back to my work. I hid my smile and dipped my rag in the mop bucket. Peeking out from behind the fridge, I caught Ben giggling to himself across the room.
Ben and I have a very good marriage. In most areas our personalities balance beautifully. Ben is spontaneous. I prefer to plan. Ben sees the big picture. I zoom in on the details. Ben is easy-going. I can be (a tiny bit) neurotic. Ben teaches me to relax. I teach Ben to be disciplined. God knew what He was doing when He matched us up as husband and wife!
I know I have a caring husband because every now and then he indulges my quirks. He didn't have to spend an evening helping me scrub the floor. He sacrificed his time (and the knees of his jeans) to complete a boring, tiresome task. Ben knew that a bright, shiny floor would bring me pleasure, so he was willing to help. That's true love!
This morning I woke up to the sweet scent of floor polish and sun streaming through the bedroom window. My husband groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
"Uggg, what time is it?" he moaned. (Ben is decidedly not a morning person.) He rolled over and within seconds was softly snoring. For a few seconds I quietly admired my husband's mussed hair and stubbly chin. I leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.
"I love you too, honey," I softly whispered, "I love you too."