Three years

So Michael and I are walking through the park today and arguing about some stuff that is - to us - consequential, and he ruminates, "Why do you think this is an issue?" and I say, "Because we don't have kids.".
Seriously.
When you don't have kids, the issues in your existing relationship become rather magnified because (aside from marathoning in some instances) you don't have a lot going on.  It's less about how Timmy's grades are sub par or why Jenny bit another girl in school, or how much money you've socked away in their RESPs, and it's more about really esoteric stuff, like do we or do we not keep the kitchen table when we move back into my place, and is it acceptable to come home late on a weeknight after drinking excessively with a friend of the opposite sex.
I say we nix the kitchen table.
Sometimes I think that the earthquake that we are so long overdue for is going to hit, and do I really want the last communication with my partner to be increasingly flippant and biting emails espousing "LOUD NOISES" which is actually kind of heartening because even though we were electronically sparring, we were still keeping our sense of humour vis a vis Anchor Man.
But mostly I am upset because there was a hair in the salad that I was eating for lunch today. 
And I made that fcking salad.