DOB and I have few areas on which we just do not understand each other. Less than most couples, I think. But we still have a few.
One of the primary ones is tie descriptions.
Every morning, DOB puts on the shirt and pants I have ironed and then calls out, "Which tie should I wear?" (Even if he always wears the same tie with that shirt.)
I call back from the kitchen, "The dark blue one with light gray spots."
"Which one is that?" he asks. He only has one tie currently in use that remotely resembles this description. I don't think he even looks.
"The one I bought in February when I went shopping with Kitra for maternity clothes," I elaborate.
"Oh, OK," he says. A few moments later, he emerges wearing the right tie.
What is so hard about matching a clear description to the tie in question? And what is so much easier about recalling the precise circumstances of its purchase?
It might be easier to just go with the description that he understands. But I refuse to concede my ground that visual descriptions are more logical than recounting the life history of the tie.
Thus, we are working on yet another tie descriptor that we can both agree on. Following Deontologist's example, we are starting to name the ties.
Today's tie, the dark one with the light gray spots, is called "Nuclear Fallout."
Alas, DOB's ties are much more conservative than Deontologist's ties. It's going to be tricky coming up with memorable names.
Or I could just lay his tie out with his shirt. But why make things boring?