Ammi Midstokke: The work of keeping your spouse relevant

We’ve had an unexpected houseguest this summer and it has provided us with the gifts of an external observer of our marriage and family, which is a thing everyone wishes for. Having a neutral party make random assessments of your home life provides both parties in a marriage with ample ammunition for any upcoming counseling sessions.

Rather than creating a warehouse of artillery, the innocent questions of a never-married roommate have made me recognize that marriage is, essentially, an arrangement whereby we make our spouse seem absolutely necessary to our survival. Mostly by leaving them messes to clean up or problems to fix.

For example, when I weed the flowerbeds I just toss the clumps of grass and dirt and clover in any direction, but primarily at walkways and patios. I do carry a bucket I probably asked my husband to purchase for just such work, but I rarely use it. The debris of my work litters all manner of concrete and dries out in the sun until it is spotted by my unsuspecting spouse.

I cannot read his mind (a thing I often remind him of), but my guess is the thought goes something like this:

“This woman would live under a pile of weeds were it not for my competency and patience with a hose.”

I know he loves nothing more than spraying down driveways and walkways and dusty cars. There must be some meditative quality to watching something be cleaned with so little real effort, though I do worry about water conservation. I also know he loves filling my windshield wiper fluid, my gas tank, and my bike tires, which are all perpetually running low for his benefit.

Meanwhile, our houseguest notes my husband is in the yard wearing only underpants and rubber boots, which happens to be his preferred uniform unless a chainsaw is involved, in which case he dons chaps, and eye and ear protection.

“Is there actually work out there in the yard or is he just making work?” she asked with unmarried naivety as I watched him tromp past a window with a sprinkler in his hand. It had rained and it was going to rain, but rain seems to be his reminder to water. His other reminder is me, because I planted a garden under the auspice of growing vegetables when really it was a strategy to ask my husband to water for me most days.

Lest the reader think this is a one-sided approach to the unbreakable bonds of marriage, I should note the same generosity of need is offered by my husband, only in different form.

When I return from any duration of travel, be it two days or two weeks, not a single vegetable has been consumed. Instead, they are forming some sort of biology project in a fridge drawer and there’s an unusual number of pizza boxes in the trash. Also, he is perpetually transporting some form of nature, be it rock, dirt, bark or beard hair, through the house so that I will always have something to clean and never feel unessential. Likewise, I am the only person in the family who knows how to clean the shower glass or toilets, thereby solidifying my position as indispensable.

In some circles, they call these behaviors “weaponized incompetence.” In marriage, it’s called “interdependency” which is different than co-dependency which is dependent on the number of -isms you both grew up with and the number you retained.

The key to a happy marriage is thus found not only in ensuring the continuing usefulness of your spouse with an infinite breadcrumb trail of chores, but in also valuing their willingness to continue following it. When effectively implemented, this strategy results in a continual exchange of mutual appreciation, whereby both of you are too busy expressing gratitude for the mundane missions of daily life to waste your time disagreeing about much anyway.

Ammi Midstokke can be contacted at ammim@spokesman.com.