I used to joke that he only noticed the TV and nothing else. But then there was the spider. The one in the bathroom I refused to go near.

I used to joke that he only noticed the TV and nothing else. But then there was the spider. The one in the bathroom I refused to go near.

He grabbed a shoe, handled it, flushed it, and went back to what he was doing like it was nothing. Same thing with the Wi-Fi — every time it crashed, I’d panic, he’d crawl under the desk, fix the cables, reset the router, and suddenly the world was working again. And the toilet that clogged at midnight? I didn’t even want to look at it. By the time I woke up the next morning, it was like it never happened. I almost let myself laugh it off like it was automatic. That’s the version where I miss that he’s actually carrying all these little emergencies so I don’t have to. But this time, I caught it. I looked at him and said, ‘Hey… thank you for killing the spider, fixing the Wi-Fi, unclogging the toilet — all the stuff no one wants to do. I noticed.’ He rolled his eyes, tried to laugh it off, but I could see the grin he couldn’t hide. I use an app called ‘quiet effort.’ It keeps me from missing the love hidden in the thankless jobs.