By Lyz Lenz
As a newlywed, I loved to vacuum. There wasn’t much to clean. We had one hand-me-down blue velour couch and matching lazy boys, with stains of mysterious origin. Our small TV was sitting on top of the crates that I used in college to hold my text books, and a small wooden table that his brother used for taxidermy. And despite how often I cleaned it, I could still smell duck blood.
But, this was our crummy furniture in our crummy apartment, and I liked to fuss over it—dusting and vacuuming at least twice a week. Given our Spartan living arrangements, vacuuming was a chore with few surprises. And yet, once a week, when I vacuumed near the couch, I heard the vacuum rattle like I was sucking up tacks. One day, I bent down and saw the jagged half moons of toenail clippings. Gross.
Have you ever discovered something about your partner, you really didn’t want to know? See how this author confronted her husband and what she learned about privacy in a marriage at YourTango.com.
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