Marriage or why I love my husband

Last night I lost a notebook. I was really upset because not only did it have my notes from this semester, but it had a poem I was working on (which is a big deal, because I don't write poetry so much anymore). I looked all around and couldn't find it. So Charlie gets up and helps me look.
We look in the living room, in the computer room, in the bedroom, I went out and looked in my car, no where. So he starts to put on his shoes. "You don't have to go out and look, I allready did." "I'm just going to go check," he says.
30 seconds later he walks in with the notebook.
"Where was it?" I asked. "It was between the passenger seat and the door. I knew it would be there. Every time you loose something, that's where it is. I know you."
That's what marriage is, knowing where someone lost something.
Of course, I knew the face he made when he found it. We had a nice laugh.
When I started to work on the poem though, it didn't come out of my head like I wanted it to. They never do anymore. I think I left part of myself somewhere.