Those first months, we watched Doris Day movies together, holding hands. But once he moved in, I discovered that he thought the remote belonged to him.
If he got home from work before me, the TV was on, clicker in his hand.
If I arrived home first, he would lurk nearby, waiting until my show was over. When the ending credits started, the remote was already nestled in his fingers.
After the kids started school, I skipped my office hours to get home early and use the dang thing alone without having to fight.
How long have the batteries been dead?