The Secret to Marital Bliss (SMB)

I’ve found the Secret to Marital Bliss: sharp, crisply ironed creases in sleeves.

Central California has been “enjoying” a heat wave for a couple of weeks – it’s been hell. Ed and I have done nothing but lay about and groan (and drip). Dishes have piled up. Dirty clothes overflow the hamper. The trash can is full of the packaging for microwaveable dinners. Mellie the Homemaker has been OFF DUTY (and Ed the Tool Man, as well). That's why this is coming out on Monday rather than last Thursday.

Then, last night, a storm front came in and brought with it blessed coolness, sweet freshness, frickin’ energy!!! Today I did all the laundry, edited a story, unpacked (more) books, actually cooked lunch for Ed when he came home at noon, and ironed all of his shirts. That’s when I realized the Secret to Marital Bliss.

I was standing at the ironing board, pressing the last of his shirts when he walked into the kitchen and around to my laundry area. The look on his face would have set off fireworks if there had been any lying around on the counter. Fortunately, we are sans flash powder at the moment so our little house is still intact. I wish I’d had a camera to catch that look, though. If Ed dies before I do, that is the picture I want to remember. If I ever doubt his love for me – that look will eliminate all doubt.

It’s not that ironing is any special thing, it’s just our thing. Ed loves an ironed shirt. I’ve always hated ironing shirts (if he could only wear handkerchiefs to work, I’d be fine). But when I got laid off and money got tight, it saved us $60/month for me to wash and iron his shirts instead of sending them to the cleaners.

At first, I hated it and had to play games while I ironed: “Ok, that sleeve was 75 cents, this sleeve is 75 cents, these flat bits are $1.50 for all…” But the more shirts I did, and the better I got at them, the more pleasurable it became…(when it wasn’t hot!) There’s the smell of hot fabric, the smooth feel of pressed material, and the industrious whooshing sound of the steam when I rest the iron upright. And, of course, the satisfaction of the well-executed performance of a mastered skill.

Blah blah blah. I could be painting or reading or playing a game. Who am I trying to kid? What’s the real secret? When are we gonna get to the Secret?? WE WANT THE SECRET!!!

Ok, ok. Be patient. I’m almost there…I never used to like creases in the sleeves of dress-shirts. I thought they looked hokey. But now, I carefully put a hard crease in the sleeves of every one of Ed’s shirts – cotton, silk, rayon, dressy, casual, whatever. If I iron it, long or short, it gets a creased sleeve. That's my little secret.

Now, if Ed were writing this, he’d say that the Secret to Marital Bliss is a spanking-clean stove-top. He does the dishes after dinner, and I always appreciate it, but what really makes my eyes light up is when the stove is cleared and polished after the dishes are done.

Here's The Secret:

He does the dishes just like I iron his shirts: it’s a job to be done.

But he does the stove like I do the creases in his sleeves – it’s the part that makes my eyes light up.

Every morning I walk into the kitchen and look at that clean stove and I’m reminded of how much he loves me. And every day at work, when he reaches for his keyboard or his phone and he sees the crease in his sleeve, it’s a reminder of how much I love him.

Ed and I are extremely fortunate. We are a perfect match. Love comes easily between us and we mean the same things when we use the same words (that’s not a common thing).

But we still have to PRACTICE our love. That’s the real secret. And if a couple isn’t perfectly matched, their need for practice is just that much greater. It doesn’t require a great deal of work, just a regular, every-day kind. And, of course, it doesn't have to be irons or stoves. It could be the remote, the toothpaste, making the bed, washing the car...it just needs to be something that thrills him or her, not necessarily something you'd love.

That may not be as exciting as some big, Herculean, Hollywood kind of effort, but if one-time, prove-my-love feats actually worked, a whole lot of divorced couples would still be married!

Well, I'm done writing. I think I'll go cook something up on my clean stove. Oh, and I think I may have left the iron on...!