I think I forgot something.

Today is Josh and my five-year wedding anniversary. To be honest, we've always put more weight on the anniversary of our first date, which we are cheesy enough to still celebrate — that one will be nine years this October. I've never done anything for nine years. Ever. We just feel that the actual act of meeting was more significant than a big ol' shebang. Our wedding was lovely, but like pretty much anybody else's wedding, it wasn't really ours and sort of got away from us. The ceremony was really kind of amazing, the honeymoon was the best vacation anyone has ever been on and I don't care what you say or where you've been, but we felt we could sort of take or leave the reception. I suppose it was more fun because we put less pressure on it, but anyway, blah blah blah. It's an anniversary so I'm thinking about it right now, but that doesn't mean I have to make you think about it. Sorry about that.

Anyway, now that everybody's working and things are moving along, we can finally exchange gifts again, so we decided to use the Traditional Gift list (you know, first year = paper, that kind of thing). Wouldn't you know it, the five-year material is ... wood. (Heh. I said wood.) I did end up finding him something stellar — a pen with a piece of original wood seating from the original 1923 Yankee Stadium embedded in the back of it — but the only thing I know about what he got me is that he couldn't have it delivered to his office because he couldn't transport it on the subway. "Did you buy me a totem pole?" I said. "Maybe," he said. It's a good thing we have a backyard.

Here's a list of things about me that Josh should find annoying but he somehow finds charming:

1. I have this OCD checking-disorder kind of thing. It takes me at least a minute and a half to set my alarm clock every night because I follow this ritual that drives me crazy but I can't stop doing it. It involves visualization and patterns and what-not, and if the minute on the clock changes while I'm doing it, I have to start over. While I'm doing this, Josh cannot speak to me or talk at all for any reason, and he can't touch me. Also, the checking disorder extends to outside of our home, so at least three times each time we're walking around the city, I make him stop in his path so I can go through my purse to make sure everything that should be in my wallet is in there.

2. Along those lines, I have this intricate, specific visualization process that I go through whenever we have Special Marital Times that serves as a superstitious ward against pregnancy, even though I'm on the Pill. (I think I'm most looking forward to trying to get pregnant just so I can stop with the damn ritual.) I have to lie down and none of my body parts can be touching any of my other body parts, and I have to stay still in silence until I finish. This takes a considerable amount of time, and during those minutes, Josh can neither speak to me nor touch me. This can sometimes be a problem, as after we have Special Marital Times, he sometimes wants to, I don't know, talk about nothing or joke around or something. Which is another reason why he's a keeper. Also: I'm a freak.

3. I very rarely offer a smooth segue from one topic to the next. Conversations can often go like this:

ME: I found shoes today for my dress for your cousin's thing.
JOSH: Are they hot?
ME: Yeah, they're really cute.
JOSH: I like it when you get hot shoes.
ME: He really lets himself go when he's not on tour.
JOSH: Wait, what? Who? What tour?
ME: Simon Le Bon. He looks terrible.
JOSH: You really have to stop doing that.
ME: I think that's the same Speedo he wore in the "Rio" video.

4. I don't cut my food properly. I don't serrate it; I sort of push it apart with the knife. It's neater that way (!!!) but it doesn't make for easy slicing. For some reason, Josh finds this endearing.

5. I remind him of appointments, house stuff, trips and errands at least five times before they are done, even if I don't have to. ("Who says I don't find that annoying?" he just said.) All I'm saying with this one is, he forgets this stuff a lot, OK?

6. When we've been out and come back home, I never reach for my keys at the front door. His are always conveniently tucked in his pocket, while mine are inevitably hiding in the farthest recesses of whatever bag I'm carrying. So even if he's schlepping more stuff, I make him open the door so I don't have to dig out my keys. I even annoy myself with this one. I'm perfectly capable of retrieving my own keys. I am codependent.

7. No matter how lethargic I've been during any given day, I often get really hyper just as we go to bed. This involves much singing of songs I make up on the spot that don't necessarily make sense but they have to rhyme. While I am doing this, Josh is usually trying to watch TV or, you know, sleep. I don't stop singing until I make him laugh (despite himself), and once he does, I yell, "I win!" and then go to sleep as if that's the most reasonable thing to do once you're in bed.

Holy hell, I'm annoying.

I think it helps that Josh has a bit of the OCD himself. Whenever he has to pack to go somewhere, he stands in front of me and repeats over and over the list of items he needs and then asks me if he's forgotten anything. It doesn't matter what I'm doing at the time, I have to stop and sit in audience to his listmaking. If I suggest something that I didn't hear him say (or if I wasn't listening carefully, which is probably more accurate), he heaves a sigh and says, "I already said that," and then starts over. He does this at least three times until he's able to close his bags and call it a day.

So he gets it.

In five years of wedded blis(ters), it's a miracle we're able to go anywhere at all.