To Differ is Human

My husband and I have a staging area – the garage. You see, over the years we have come to notice our differences, and we use the staging area to hide them.

We both grew up in remarkably similar lower middle-class families, where affordability was limited to a month’s grocery and clothing meant wear, wash and repeat cycles every other day. Today, Costco is a dream come true for him – a stress buster. As for me, I still have withdrawal symptoms from my childhood days. Living within means to me is now no more than what my minds eye can handle.

His trips to Costco are at undisclosed times and the haul is stashed away in undisclosed locations within the said garage. They will slowly find their way into the house, one object at a time. Sometimes when I am home alone, I develop x-ray vision. A certain untouched cupboard or area will suddenly appear like a war zone, and I have this urge to turn it into a Japanese minimalist art project. One area leads into another, and I am like a mole digging around the house. But I do not leave traces. I have my haul stashed away in boxes in the garage, staged for donations. They will secretly find their way out.

The differences between us keep surfacing. One thing we still have in common is our love for people and conversations. Of late, conversations steer towards couples and their differences. We talk about how it was, how it is, for them, for us, and the world at large. We dig deeper into vacationing styles, spending habits, religious beliefs, culture, politics, music, parenting, noise levels, food, families, and yes tolerance. We even cover dishwasher loading styles.

I realize, in all these conversations with friends and family, my husband and I (like the others) are each looking to rack up support on our side – the Yeas vs the Nays. And this is changing based on who we are talking to. Why then are we doing this?

Because along the way we are having lots of laughter. In this case, we are staging with people dear to us, and it is not discreet.