“Honey, I have my OWN habits now,” my husband, Francis, exclaimed during a recent squabble over his new bedtime routine. Ever since Francis began commuting for work to Connecticut, he’s become accustomed to falling asleep to the sound of audio books.

This habit wouldn’t be a problem if Francis wore EarPods, but according to him, they are annoying and out of the question. Instead, Francis drops off while blaring his most recent book from his cell phone, at full volume, for all the world to hear.

“How am I supposed to fall asleep with all this racket?” I asked when Francis’ new habit surfaced. But he’d only “tsk” and suggest that I get earplugs. Oh, the irony!

Lying there waiting for his phone’s automated settings to turn the book off and end my misery, I couldn’t help but recall other moments when Francis came home with new penchants that developed while he was away.

When Francis spent a year deployed to Djibouti, East Africa, he requested things to make his Containerized Living Unit (CLU, or CONEX box) feel more homey. His quarters contained only a twin bed, a desk and a sea chest. So I sent him high thread-count sheets, a fluffy comforter, pillow shams and a dust ruffle, all in matching shades of “merlot.” I sent luxurious towel sets in a manly paisley pattern, with matching vanity items, a bath mat and a shower curtain.

His Christmas care package contained cookies that had gone stale in transport, along with a small LED lighted Christmas tree, ornaments, photo frames filled with family pics, and a large Hickory Farms sausage and cheese gift package.

Francis was so excited about the coziness of his box quarters, he invited his buddies over for a party. They brought their soccer chairs and sat around a cardboard box coffee table lit by the LED tree, watching movies on Francis’ laptop and eating Hickory Farms and stale cookies.

When the year was up, Francis didn’t bring home his decor, because it had been ruined by African dust. But he did bring his new interest in interior design, along with a myriad of African souvenirs — wood carvings, clay warrior masks, animal skin drums and batik wall hangings.

Like the dutiful wife, I integrated Francis’ new mementos into our home’s style, which could best be described as “HomeGoods clearance aisle meets garage sale treasures, with Aunt Millie’s hand-me-downs sprinkled in.” I lied and told Francis the African items made us more cultured. But when the animal skin drums began to emit a foul odor that permeated the house, and the kids claimed the masks were evil, we had to make some hard decisions.

While active duty, the Navy continued to require Francis to be away from home for extended periods, giving him the freedom to add new habits, routines and interests to his personal repertoire. After a short deployment in the Mediterranean, Francis announced that he’d given up beer, and was now a wine connoisseur. On a TDY to Norway, Francis bought a reindeer pelt, insisting that it belonged on our bedroom floor upon his return. After repeated TDYs to South America, he tried to replace our beloved margaritas with throat-burning Pisco Sours.

And now, post-retirement, Francis’ job in Connecticut has made him a Geo-bachelor once again. Every Monday for the last few years, he packs up clean laundry and food items and leaves our home to live in Connecticut for the week. While living in hotels and rented apartments, Francis has developed new habits, tolerances and routines that he brings home every Friday.

For example, Francis’ new lifestyle includes no vegetables other than lettuce. He watches bad horror movies and British detective shows to his heart’s content. He leaves the seat up every time. He goes to bed shortly after 9 p.m., and, much to my dismay, he falls asleep to his blaring audio books.

“I used to dream about having my own commuter apartment, but actually, I get lonely for you,” Francis admitted recently. His confession made me realize that I’m OK with a few questionable souvenirs and annoying habits, as long as my husband always brings home his love.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com