Domestic Vows

I promise to love you even when you leave your socks on the floor and your dishes in the sink. I vow to always tell you when there's something in your teeth, to never spoil the ending of a movie, and to laugh at your jokes even when I'm the one who told them to you. You are my favorite teammate for life.

I vow to load the dishwasher correctly, or at least to stop reorganizing it after you've already done it. I promise to admit when I'm "hangry," to share the covers (most of the time), and to laugh at your jokes even when I've heard them three times. I love you for your quirks, and I promise to inflict mine upon you for the rest of our lives.

I promise to kill the spiders, open the tight jars, and reach the high shelves, as long as you promise to keep me warm.

I promise to love you through every mystery of the fitted sheet. I will help locate the right corner, accept that one of us may have invented a new folding method, and never claim victory too early. I promise to share the blanket, laugh when the laundry basket wins, and remember that a home is not made by matching socks alone. In all the rumpled, ordinary work of our life, I choose patience, teamwork, and you.

I promise to stop fighting over the thermostat, or at least to only change it when you aren't looking. I promise to be your professional spider-remover for life.