At first, that was true.
Just conversation.
Then the conversations became proposals.
Lauren suggested consolidating all our accounts.
I asked why.
“Simpler.”
“Our current system is simple.”
“It could be more unified.”
“What does that mean?”
She frowned.
“Why are you immediately resistant?”
“I’m not resistant. I’m asking what problem we’re solving.”
That was a question Lauren increasingly disliked.
In my work, every change needed a reason.
If someone wanted to redesign a process, I wanted to know what was failing.
Lauren heard the question differently.
To her, asking why began sounding like opposition.
“We’re married,” she said.
“I noticed.”
She did not laugh.
“A married couple shouldn’t operate like roommates.”
“We don’t.”
“But you still have your money and I have mine.”
“We also have our money.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No. It’s three categories instead of one.”
She dropped the subject that night.
A week later she raised it again.
Then again.
Each time the language changed slightly.
First, “Maybe we should combine things.”
Then, “I think we need to combine things.”
Eventually, “We’re going to need to change this.”
That final version bothered me.
I asked her directly one Saturday morning while we were drinking coffee.
“Why has this suddenly become urgent?”
“It isn’t sudden.”
“It is from where I’m sitting.”
“I’ve been thinking about our future.”
“What part of our future requires me to close my personal checking account?”
She sighed.
“See? That.”
“What?”