My husband and I marked our first wedding anniversary earlier this month. We were not going to make a big deal out of it but did not want to let the occasion pass without at least a small celebration.
However, when you're sharing a small apartment, planning even the most low-key of surprises can be quite a challenge.
My husband sneaked out while I was passed out on the sofa in the afternoon to buy a small cake, came back and hid it in the vegetable compartment of our fridge where I store all my Chinese tea.
But he left a tea canister out on the kitchen counter by accident and I would have spoiled the surprise had I not dumped it back into another part of the fridge instead.
As for my gift, he stashed it in the car parked downstairs in the apartment garage. I ordered his present online and picked up a small cupcake on the way home from the gym.
I hid the cupcake in plain sight. By the time it came to presenting it with a candle, the icing had melted into a sticky mess.
As we wished each other a happy anniversary, I blurted out something that was on my mind: "Wow, one year down, so many more years to go!''
I got a bemused look and a raised eyebrow, but he put it down to my lack of an internal monologue and we both laughed it off.
But I got to thinking about that accidental comment a little later and realised that as someone who is so used to working to tight deadlines, I often think about things in terms of their due-by-dates or shelf-life.
Feature due in one week, story due in an hour. The adrenalin kicks in, the brain juices flow, I give it my all and feel like I'm holding my breath until it's all finished. Full stop, press send, done!
Marriage, on the contrary, is one project that does not have a cut-off time. Ideally, it goes on until "death do us part''.
We had worked hard on our marriage in our first year, and would have to keep up the effort for a long, long time if we wanted to make it last.
I guess when I uttered that comment, I was coming into a full realisation of this fact.
In our first year, on the whole I'd say, we had managed to avoid the big blow-ups that sometimes occur when two very independent, different people are suddenly thrust into one life, one space.
Sure we had our spats, but they were mostly over small things such as who does what chores and, ahem, my incredibly high tolerance for messiness.
As time went on, we learned to pick our battles. There were so many instances that if we did not bite our tongues, hold back the sarcasm, push back the anger, a small irritation might have exploded into an ugly face-off.
And man, exercising self-control and self-restraint is hard work. And isn't it ironic? So often we treat loved ones worse than we would a total stranger, and it's because we know our dear ones will love and forgive us.
I'm not one to read self-help books, but I'm beginning to see marriage not as a marathon as some have described it, but more as a trek in the mountains.
The one marathon I ran in, I was in pain half of the time and the other half of the time I just wanted it to be over.
No, marriage is more like one of those long treks I've gone on in the highlands.
You proceed in stages, there are small milestones and highlights every so often that motivate you to keep going.
Sometimes it gets really tough, like when you're trudging up a steep mountain side. Your heart is thumping, your lungs are on fire, and your knees feel like they are going to give way.
But you go on, because you know that soon, your efforts will land you at the top of a mountain pass and the scenery will be so awesome you will forget all that labouring the minute you lay eyes on the misty hilltops in the distance.
Then there are times in marriage that feel like when you're walking through a monotonous, flat valley. There's no excitement, just one foot ahead of the other for hours.
Every couple goes through this, what I call the eat-in-silence-at-the-restaurant-table phase. You might not have had a meaningful discussion or conversation in weeks, you sleep at different times and take your meals separately.
But sooner rather than later, on the trek as in marriage, you turn a corner, climb another mountain, cross a river and hit another breathtaking scene. And the promise of something good and beautiful always gives you strength to carry on.
Hopefully I'll remember my own advice if we ever hit a valley, and step by step, the journey will get us to forever.