It's just a matter of communication . . .
Susan Nienow

Except we speak two different languages. My other half speaks exact - I speak general. He speaks logic - I speak, well, personal logic. He says there is no such thing as "personal" logic, but that's a matter of opinion. He speaks fact - I am pretty good at conjecture. Just yesterday, was talking to a friend on the phone about the traffic problem at an intersection I go through regularly. "conjectured" that was worse Monday through Thursday than on Friday because some people leave their jobs early on Fridays. He wanted to know how I knew that - facts, he said. What?

Then there is this whole time thing. He loves time. It is so precise. Digital clocks were invented for him. I like the old kind with the hands where it's "about" or "around" 9:30 a.m. That's probably why I don't play golf. They make tee times to the minute - 9:37 a.m.

It's really only a problem when we set a time to leave. When he says, "Let's leave at 8 a.m.," he means be in the car with seatbelt on. But I hear "around 8 a.m.," so I still have to find my purse and sunglasses, get the package I want to return while we're in the area, and fix some ice water to take along. By the time I am ready to go, it is quarter after. And one of us isn't happy.

My other half has learned to set the time up a half hour or so when leaving on time is important. It just took him decades to do it. He trains slowly, but I, apparently, am untrainable.

Then there is the list of places we are going. Just errands. But I mentally tack on the places I need to go that are in the same area. I have told my other half that I need to return a blouse, stop at the drugstore and run in the department store - on different occasions and maybe more than a week ago. But I remembered. He didn't, and when I mentioned adding them to the list, he grumbles about being organized. In advance.

I consider my lists guidelines, not timetables. He writes in permanent ink, and I like pencil. Erasable ink is OK, too. Flexibility is essential since my lists are often a little sketchy. I expect that "pick up dry cleaning" will remind me to run into the beauty salon next door and get shampoo. And I'll remember to make my next appointment for a haircut.

His shopping list is laid out on the shortest path. I make a list and then go back and number it according to the order of stops. And add a few things. Then forget to do one of them.

Guess what he reads for pleasure? Non-fiction. And me? Fiction every time.