• Dani leaves spoons all over the house.  No, she isn't autistic, nor is this some sort of voodoo ritual.  She likes to have a spoon-full of ice cream at a time.  She goes to the freezer and gets that, then walks around eating it.  When she is finished, she leaves the spoon somewhere.  Anywhere, in fact.  I have found them in the bathroom, on the headboard of our bed, and by the computer.  I'm like, "How did I bring my cereal bowl back to the kitchen without the spoon."  Answer: I didn't.

• Dani likes to get behind cars.  If there's a red light ahead and one lane is empty while the other has three cars lined up, guess which one we end up in?

• Dani snores.  I have tried several tactics for dealing with this.  Waking her results in a confused look and a "What?" after which she goes to sleep and resumes snoring within three minutes or less (i.e. just enough time for me to start to doze off and be awaken... again).  Holding her nose doesn't stop her from snoring, even while my fingers are pinching an airtight seal across her nostrils.  She will continue to noisily pass the same recycled breath-full of air back and forth over the snore-generating machinery housed somewhere inside her head.  She will only try to breathe through her mouth and wake up startled when she finally runs out of breath.  Then I get this accusatory look like, "Hey, did you just try to kill me?"

• Dani likes to clutter the countertops.  I don't know what she gets out of this, but I have a clear record of what she has had to eat most days from the trail of empty packaging left there that any normal person would have placed in the trash/recycling containers.

• Dani has cats.  I'm not sure I want to go into this topic for fear of breaking the keyboard.

• Dani keeps a little jar of Mentholatum next to the bed.  At night she puts this on her lips right before she goes to bed, ostensibly because her lips are chapped.  In reality, this is a trap to make me think twice before trying to steal a kiss.  See, when I kiss her, I get this jolt of super intense pepperment that clings to my own lips even after my hasty attempt to wipe it all off.  An electric fence around her face couldn't be more effective.

• Dani likes colors that don't suit her.  She is quite clearly and undeniably a winter, yet as we walk through a clothing store, she will walk straight past a rack of black, red, and white outfits and pick up the pastel turquoise sweater and say, "Isn't this nice?"  My answer, same as always: "Yes, but not for you."

• Dani forgets which movies we've seen.  Many of you know this story already, but the conversation typically goes like this:

Her: How about this one?
Me: We saw it already.
(long pause)
Her: Did I like it?

• Dani likes to take a different path to the same place no matter how many times we drive there.  For example, we must have gone to visit her parents at their house almost every weekend for about the first six months we were dating.  The first time I tried to drive over there by myself, I couldn't find the place.  I ended up taking portions of several of the multitude of routes we had previously tried until I wound back on myself like a snake eating its tail.  I don't know how she manages to make it to work on time.

• Dani likes to talk about poop.  I have no idea how she does this, but somehow the conversation will get steered in this general direction only when we're doing that most thoroughly opposite of bodily functions and trying to eat.

• Dani will not put away laundry until the pile is high enough to punch a hole in the ozone layer.  She does this twice: Once with the dirty laundry until I force her to sort it according to her set of arcane and unknowable rules, then I'll actually wash it, bring it back to the bedroom, sort it, and fold it.  However, it won't get put away.  Remember when I said "twice"?  That's where the second pile comes from.

• Dani leaves the light on over the stove.  As with so much else, I have no idea why.  She will remember to turn off every other light in the house, but that one serves as some sort of secret signal to the outside world of something... mainly that she's annoying me.

Dani never files anything.  That wouldn't be a problem if she just stuffed it all into a big box somewhere.  The problem is that she always plans to file things away.  Later.  Eventually.  Someday.  In the meantime, it accumulates to the point I'm literally tripping over piles of things.  Thankfully, there's usually a large pile of laundry nearby to break my fall.

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