“Geographical Bachelor” (or, geo bach) is a term military people use to describe someone who is working in a different city than the one in which his family lives. As I wrote last week, geo-baching is becoming more popular for 21st-century military families, especially those in dual-income families or those with high-school age children.

The decision to live apart, even if temporarily, is a difficult one to make, but it’s not always the end of the world either. For the past two-and-a-half years, Dustin lived as a geo bachelor in Washington, D.C., while we kept the family in Maine, and although the path was bumpy at times (remember that Maine-to-DC train trip when I learned my family might be people repellant?), we found many things to learn and appreciate as well.

• My husband needs me (to clean his space)

First, a quiz: Where do you keep utensils?

I’m reading your mind now and seeing that you’ve chosen “a top drawer in the kitchen” and “the top drawer nearest the dishwasher.”

If you are like Dustin, however, these are both wrong.

The first time I visited Dustin’s “bachelor pad,” I couldn’t find a spoon for my morning cereal. I searched all the top drawers and only found random packs of ketchup, matches, magnets from real-estate agents, and stacks of takeout menus. So I searched the middle drawers. Nothing but tin foil and a screw driver (a screw driver?) there.

Finally, I found the utensils—in the very bottom drawer next to the oven. They were loose, and they smashed against the wood of the drawer when I pulled it open.

I had no idea my husband was this lost without me. We’re talking about laundry detergent under the kitchen sink, trash bags in the bedroom closet, and a 30-year supply of styrofoam plates in the pantry.

I have seen what his living conditions would be without my help, and it’s not pretty.

• Our house without Dustin is no walk in the park either

Alright, so maybe I keep utensils where they belong back at the homestead, but the house was in most other ways only being held together by faith (and friends who took pity on us) while Dustin was away.

Who knew that you have to rake snow off the roof after every single storm, or that the grass won’t mow itself? I honestly didn’t know that the car’s registration has to be renewed every year, and I’ll be forever sorry for that time Dustin was home and he got pulled over for my expired plates.

• Love knows no boundaries—or zip codes

Before Dustin left, he famously said, “If the only thing holding this family together is the fact that we live under the same roof, then we’ve got much bigger problems.”

Sure, but we did have some ground rules.

1. We never called the apartment in D.C. “home.” If I texted Dustin and asked, “Are you home from work yet?” he’d reply, “I’m done with work, but I’m at the apartment, not home.”

2. We could tap out at any time with these contractually binding words: “I need you here,” and “please come home.”

3. The kids knew they could call Dad 24/7, even at work, and even if, as in Lindell’s case, the only thing on their mind was, “I like cake.”

• Trust is no small thing

When we told people our plan to not move the family to D.C., their first question usually was, “Is everything okay—like, with you and Dustin?”

This is a dangerous question to ask a man like my husband, a man who once dropped off our son at his new preschool, a former orphanage, and asked the director, “So, it’s optional to come back and get him at the end of the day, right?”

All Dustin’s poorly timed jokes aside, the truth is, you have to have a strong marriage to make geo-baching work. (Side note: it also helps to have a teenage son who can mow the lawn, shovel the snow and take out the trash.)

I’ve known Dustin my whole life (I met him before I met my dad, in fact), and we’ve been married 16 years. I knew exactly what he was doing at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night: dozing on the couch with the remote in his hand.

Plus, any woman who saw his pile of styrofoam plates or the utensils in the bottom drawer would send him back to me immediately. And I know that Dustin could say the same about me.

It’s been a long couple of years with many good times sprinkled in, but if geo-baching has taught us anything, it is this: We may love each other the same no matter the distance, but Dustin and I are better—cleaner, more organized, less likely to get tickets—when we are together.