Marriage is not a competition. But if it were, my husband Mark would be winning.
You might get the impression, from reading this column, or perhaps from knowing us personally, that Mark is a taciturn old grouch, while I am sweetness and light pretty much all the time, bestowing upon him laughter, engaging conversation and tasty home-cooked meals.
All of that is true, of course. But when it comes to thoughtfulness, the grouch is way ahead.
I hate him for that.