It's my blog and I'll write long posts if I want to

I've been married one year, give or take 13 days. And coincidentally, I have been working on this list of items that I like about being married, and there are 13 today. I think it's a sign. I'll post here.

1. During the good times, it's really, really good. It's home-y. Comfortable in a good way; "moring" even. And I like moring. There's wine and laughter and games, movies, books, trips, grocery shopping, cheese omelets, napping, taking walks ... All that. And that stuff's pretty easy with Dave, because he's (grab a bucket) my best friend. Tear, tear.

2. During the bad times, we don't die like I thought I would. Life doesn't stop. There are no dramatic stomps down crummy apartment hallways made in a drunken haze at 3 a.m. with friends holding your hair back as you simultaneously vomit and scream "But I love him! Why does he have to be such a jerk!"

Let the record show, I've not actually been that girl. Right hand. Scout's honor.

Anyhow, I may not see him more than an hour or so some days, he may want to hide my body in the attic when I politely nag him to PLEASE put away the laundry he said he'd put away LAST Sunday. We have had exactly one real stomping-upstairs, "I don't want to talk about it," "Fine, me either," bump-into-each-other-in-the-kitchen-and-scowling argument (which, for the record, I'm blaming it solely on not seeing him*). And after said argument, he went to work, I went to bed, we woke up and kept living. You don't die. It just keeps going.

*See, if he's not here a lot, then I should be really moody when he is here because he's just going to leave again in 45 minutes, right?? Remember that woman? I'm sure you dated her in college. Anyhow, she made a brief appearance a few weeks ago. And remember that "FINE!" guy you dated in college? He was here, too. It was awesome. We were a few teeth too-many for a trailer park fight, unfortunately.

3. I like how we have a new five-year plan every year. And how when we're either really angry or really happy, we make it either a one-year plan or a seven-year plan, respectively. And, no, the plan does not include divorce. Ha. I'm such a planner that I mentally jot these things down and use them to get through the weeks. "It's OK, Erin! Three years, one month and two weeks to go!"

4. He used the B word, the K word and the P word last month, and it wasn't an "as if" joke. Think about it.

5. Sure, I'd give him a kidney. Maybe even one of mine.

6. I like his family, they seem to like me, and mine likes him. That was something new for me.

7. He doesn't make plans and tell me what he is or we are doing. There's no "Oh, Friday, I'm going out with (three guys who can burp the alphabet)." There's "should we call (two people who maybe could burp the alphabet, but stopped doing so in public when they hit 25)?" and "What do you feel like doing?"

8. If someone passes me wearing Dave's aftershave or Axe stuff, I do a mini-gasp because I expect it to be him.

9. When we eventually, someday leave Wisconsin, we can reminisce and say "We'll always have Oshkosh." Not too many people could say that with a straight face.

10. When we're in bad moods, one of us will sing to the other "Lydia, the Tattooed Lady" (Groucho Marx's song). Lydia, oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia? Inside jokes are cool.

11. I think he likes me. I mean, I know he loves me, but I think he likes me, too.

12. I don't really like people. He does. This means when someone needs to make a phone call or order a pizza or talk to a salesperson, he does all the work while I stand off to the side, looking intelligent and aloof. We're a good pair.

13. He's mine.