Disagreement between a husband and a wife occurs even in the best of marriages. Sometimes this manifests as open argument. But other times, marital conflict can be more subtle, an unspoken tension permeating the relationship for years like an uncomfortable humidity.
I met Ann when I was a sophomore at Wesleyan University in Connecticut. I was visiting my brother at University of Michigan, where Ann was enrolled a year ahead of me. We met at a fraternity Halloween party. She was dressed as Aphrodite, in a skimpy toga no father would have permitted his daughter to wear in public.
I fell in love.
Our entire three year courtship was a long distance relationship. Ann and I grew to know each other through letters and the periodic visits my budget would allow. She finished her degree a year before I did and moved to Atlanta. After my graduation we married.
There has been nothing in my life I have looked forward to more than finally living with my beloved. My attraction to Ann was more than just her physical beauty; I admired her intelligence, her kindness, her discipline, her many talents.
I still admire her. But after twenty plus years of marriage, I have to admit that the intelligence- discipline thing sometimes gets on my nerves.
Conservation vs. Comfort
Ann has tendencies towards frugality that do honor to her Scottish heritage. She also endeavors to be environmentally aware. These two qualities are evinced in the temperature settings Ann prefers for the household thermostat. During the hot Georgia summer the air conditioning is set at 85. During the cold of winter the heat is set at 60. In January when I am cold, Ann tells me to put on a sweater. In July when I am hot, Ann tells me to take my sweater off.
It’s been a hot humid summer. So yesterday when Ann wasn’t looking, I snuck like a ninja to the thermostat and deftly dropped the temperature five degrees.
It didn’t take Ann long to notice. “Who turned the air conditioning so low, Michael?”
“Those kids,” I responded, shaking my head disapprovingly. I was not lying. I was simply making a declarative statement designed to misdirect.
“The boys told me they didn’t touch the thermostat, Michael.”
“Those kids,” I repeated, shaking my head disapprovingly.
Ann laughed and moved the thermostat back to “where it belongs.” I didn’t argue. I understand her perspective: why burn fossil fuels to lower the temperature of my house so I am a tad bit more comfortable? But frankly, this thermostat thing can be annoying. I feel like I’m married to Al Gore, and every time I touch the temperature control it’s like I’ve sunk an axe in the trunk of the Earth’s last giant redwood.
The Thermostat Battle, Redefined
Over the years, Ann has also successfully colored “our thermostat decision” in what can only be called spiritual terms. With tactful language she has artfully conveyed to me sophisticated thoughts about the needs of the body versus the needs of the soul. I am not smart enough to fully comprehend exactly what she has said, but essentially her argument boils down to this:
Jesus didn’t have air conditioning, Michael, so why don’t you spend more time praying and less time whining?
Last month, Ann left town to visit her sister. It was like Dorothy’s house just plopped down in Oz on you-know-who. I ran to the thermostat like an unsupervised teenager and lowered it not five degrees, but ten. I was going to get all the air conditioning that compressor could muster. That night my house was so cold I needed another blanket from the closet. Immobilized by comforters, I slept like it was the dead of winter.
Condensation covered all my windows in the morning. I shivered when I sat down by myself to my morning coffee. Now this is what July in Georgia should feel like! I thought about getting out that dang sweater. Maybe I should light a fire too?
But after some reflection, I simply turned the air conditioning off. I missed Ann. Morning coffee is more fun with her. I remembered it’s far better to have a home that is too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, than to suffer again through the fires and chills of a long distance relationship.
A good prescription for a healthy marriage is an occasional few days apart. Truly, absence softens the disagreements – and reminds us of the love.
-Dr. Mike Litrel
