Here’s how it is. When you’re little, you have your own bed, often in your own bedroom. You have your own closet, chest of drawers, and sometimes you have your own bathroom.
And then you get married and those things are gone. Forever. Suddenly, in the sardonically named “Master Bedroom” you now share a bed and have less space than when you were two years old.
Unless you live in a mega mansion, you must also share a bathroom, and frequently, a closet. And this is how it will be for the rest of your life. Spitting into sinks together, using the same toilet, and the same tub and shower. Sharing a dresser. Bumping into each other as you try to get dressed.
You graduated to adulthood, but everything that was once yours is now divided in half. And the whole world buys into this, and shops for these same shared items—mattresses, furniture, showerheads.
I’m still glad I married St. Bob,
and I’m aware he has made the same sacrifice of space, but know this: You
really can fool all of the people, all of the time.
You can
also share my books—why not, long as we’re on a roll!
