His and Hers

Teach us delight in the simple things,
And mirth that has no bitter springs;
Forgiveness free of evil done,
And love to all men beneath the sun.
-Rudyard Kipling

For necessary purposes, we own numerous computers, both the desktop and laptop kind. At the end of this summer, our most used and valued laptop sputtered and expired, regained life for a bit, then died again, this time for good, a scant few days later.
We were most regretful that it happened, especially because my Spouse devoted a large portion of a precious vacation at home to extend the laptop's life, to no avail.
We are not the type to reinstate things quickly and thoughtlessly. It is November now and Spouse has not found a suitable replacement.
Fortunately we are blessed with other computers that can fill the gap for the time being. At the moment I am using a large, ugly, archaic and noisy old dinosaur which at least seems to do its job sufficiently.
A couple of days ago, my Spouse, who I must insist had a long day and is wretchedly tired, was bemoaning the fact that we have not taken the time to seek out a better model of computer than what I use now. For, truth be told, the laptop that terminated was mostly for my use.
"I am sorry," said Spouse, "that I have not had a chance to replace you with a laptop."
It is fortunate that we understand each other remarkably well. We do not, ever, celebrate anniversaries or Valentine's Day, nor do we exchange presents on birthdays or Christmas. For more than twelve months this and last year we mostly only spoke to each other on the phone: at various times either my Spouse or myself or both of us would be carrying out some daily activity and the other would be privy to that through the medium of telephone. As we were lucky enough to have an unlimited computer phone plan, our calls, then, would go on for hours and hours. I might cook or clean, Spouse might cook or write an e-mail. We carried on for interminate periods of silence, a nice and comfortable quiet with each other at the opposite end.
Whatever technology was involved, it saw fit, lamentably, to disconnect us regularly. They actually cut us off more times than we can count.
This occurred because the technology, in its infinite wisdom, detected silence, long stretches of nothingness, and assumed that we had completed our call, merely forgetting, perhaps, to put the receiver fully back into its cradle.
Oh, dear. What about right to silence, then? Can we not have continuous phone conversations without speech? It seems not.
I wonder what such technology, or rather, the people who determine how it runs, would make of my Spouse's comment.
All that matters is that I know my Spouse does not want to replace me with a laptop. That might be construed as a frivolous comment but understanding certainly goes a long way: it negates the need for exchanging gifts and in so doing makes life a whole lot more straightforward and trouble-free.
It helps greatly that we are fond of all the same things-music, films, places, food and weather. In our house in Texas, for instance, which I have mentioned before was quite like a palace to us, we had a bathroom adjoined to the master bedroom. There were two sinks: one for him, one for her. We never could understand that. Why would we need separate sinks? Does that not complicate matters unnecessarily?
For us, there is no 'his/hers' situation, no reason in the world for me to have my own collection of something and Spouse to have another; no way on earth that Spouse would take one sort of vacation while I take a different kind. It isn't about money at all, truly. Life is simpler this way and much more fun.