It took me three days to paint the master bedroom, three days of Jeff-awayness that meant I spent most of my painting time trying very very hard to coax sprightly conversation out of my painting utensils (and failing, I might add). The first two days were spent painting and doing chores at a rather leisurely pace, since I believed I had until Thursday night to complete the painting of the room.

Last night's phone call changed that. "I'm coming home a day earlier than planned."

Already?

Website as excavation project: 2000, 2001. Skip ahead a bit, and here we are again, well past the no-longer-newlywed stage and into the haze of The Early Years. Five years, come and gone, and right now, we are gone, holed up and quiet, in a bed not our own in a weekend that wholly is.

When I was in Arkansas this past weekend, my grandmother was surprised when I told her that it was our anniversary this week. "Five years already?"

"In the grand scheme of things, it's not many."

I make no secret that domesticat.net isn't an open book, despite the regularity and honesty of my words here. Certain subjects are off-limits by choice; my friends may learn many things about me by what I publish here, but the overwhelming majority of my relationship with my spouse remains a subject not for public consumption.

Those of us who read entertainment news with any degree of amusement, skepticism, or fascination have probably greeted the idea of Spike TV with either a waggle of eyebrow (or at least a waggle of tentacle). "Television for men," they say.

"So," you say (if you're me), "what portions of the male television need have not been met? What heretofore-undiscovered niche of male television programming has not already been exploited for its inherent commercial breaks?"

All these years later and I realize that I would have been desperately unhappy if I had chosen to share my life with someone who was not also under the thrall of the written word. Eventually, the pull of words would have won, requiring me to set up some portion of the house that was devoted to stillness, no matter how little the other inhabitants of the house understood.

Marriage changes you, they say.

I spent my Saturday running back and forth between the bride's room and the groom's room, playing wedding photographer-imp in an aging green dress, shoes tight and clacking mercilessly against the tile floor. By virtue of my sex I was allowed in the bride's room, and through marriage and friendship was allowed to hang out in the groom's room.

Every person should be so lucky to have a glance like this on a day like this one.

To Rick and Jessica, on their wedding day, congratulations.