Living with an Engineer
Living with an engineer
I’d like to start by telling a little story. Honestly, I have so many things to write about, and the topics just never seem to run out. Sure, I’m a business graduate, and I’m pretty good with numbers, but engineering is something else entirely… Now, I’m going to write as if I’m just talking—no need for long sentences or metaphors on this one. 😊
I’ve explained the whole “counting drawers from the bottom” thing countless times. The top drawer, where we put the forks and spoons, how does it end up being the third drawer? I just don’t get it!
Now, there are even more habits added. He loads the dishwasher from the back first, lines up the glasses from largest to smallest. I can’t make sense of this because, however you stack them, the new items will just fill in the gaps. What is this millimetric precision?
He places the toilet paper in the cabinet with the same precision, and the slippers go back to the exact same spot every night before bed.
The worst part is he only shops at one particular store. Why? Because he’s memorized the layout of each aisle. Even though there’s another store much closer with almost the same prices, we go all the way to the farther one… And if the layout changes, it’s a short-term shock.
If there’s a change in our plans, he can’t handle it. It’s like ice water being poured over him. Poor guy, and he lives with someone like me, a Gemini who changes her mind quickly and gets bored of places fast.
When we switched out summer and winter clothes, I noticed that even though he had space in his closet, he got rid of four old shirts because he bought four new ones. Not three, not two—four…
He even has a list of the shows he’s watching in his wallet. Which season and which episode he’s on for each one… Now, that’s something I truly can’t get used to. 😊
The organization on his phone screen amazes me. Everything is in folders; you have to search just to find the app you want. I mean, they say Aquarius signs aren’t typically this organized…
Let’s say I want to hang up something tiny. The other day, I was going to stick a clear hook inside the cabinet, and he came into the room with a spirit level. For a hook we’d barely see!
In the mornings, his alarm is set to 6:57—not 6:45, not 7:15. He calculated the exact time after figuring out how long he spends in the bathroom, how long it takes him to shave, and how many seconds it takes to get dressed.
Let’s say I share some good news. Instead of saying “Congratulations,” he starts with a “SWOT analysis and potential setbacks.” Just say “Congrats” first, celebrate a little. After all, I’m a 46-year-old woman who’s been working since I was 20. I must know a few things. First, show some support, then let’s look at the possibilities together. I tell him this every time, but he just can’t do it. I’ve gotten used to it—no analysis, no go. 😊
I decide what to cook for dinner at the last minute, while he wants to know what he’ll be eating tomorrow night as he’s leaving for work in the morning or, if possible, the night before. If he’s toasting bread, he asks, “How many slices will you have?” I’ve made a big salad with lots of vinegar and olive oil, so I might eat two slices or maybe five. Just toast the bread; we can reheat more if needed. I can’t know exactly how much bread I’ll eat before sitting down!
I show my emotions instantly; they’re all over my face. He, on the other hand, never lets on. Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s happy or sad.
Reading all this together, it might sound like complaining, but it’s not—I enjoy it. Living through it, sharing it…
And he enjoys our differing perspectives, too. After all, it’s been 18 years, and we’re doing well with our differences. Here’s to another 48 years...
The truth is, I’m not easy to live with either. I’m indecisive—very indecisive. I might say “yes” to something and immediately change to “no.” The walls of the house change color every year; sometimes I’m super energetic, other times super lazy. Especially now, with age and hormones, my reactions are even more unpredictable. At least with him, everything is constant. Right now, I’m the one disrupting all the balance in the house. And then I shamelessly blame it all on hormones and wriggle out of it… This will be the topic of the next piece, I suppose. I just hope I don’t end up disliking myself while I write it…
By the way, my love, one small request: when you’re giving me directions, please don’t say “Turn left in 60 meters, then right in 80 meters.” If you could say, “Turn left at the grocery store, then right at the red building,” I’d be much happier. Should I be counting meters or looking at the road? 😊
