Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

It isn’t our possessions that are problematic when Earl and I finally do the downsizing thing. With the exception of my piano, neither of us is so attached to most of our furniture that we couldn’t live without it. The real problem hides in the downsizing both Earl and I face in terms of our personal preferences.

For instance, Earl loves to work with both the radio and the television on . . . and loud. I prefer silence. Earl’s choice of favorite TV programs runs to sports and cop shows; I like a blank screen. Earl is a golden oldies guy; I’m a classical gal.

Earl’s office looks as if Office Max threw up all over the place; my papers are stacked in neat parallel piles. Additionally, Earl has framed pictures of President George W. Bush, his wife, and Charleton Heston of the National Rifle Association as dйcor in his office. I don’t. (Nor do I want them in any other room of my home either.) I have Winnie the Pooh and other mementos from my childhood.

Our current house accommodates one person’s preferences without imposing them on the other person. And, when Earl needs to listen to his conservative talk radio hosts (Think Rush Limbaugh here.), there’s always the garage. But what will we do in our next home if we have to share a family room or an office? If I have to watch NYPD to get equal time listening to classical music? If my half of our communal desk has to stare at his half in disgust?

Each of us likes our respective ends of the bell curve, and moving to the middle will be difficult.