There is an ancient proverb that says, “The couple that does not record audiobooks together stays together.”

These are wise words. I know this now because recently, I wrote a book with my wife. This past weekend, Jamie and I recorded the audiobook version together, which was a lot of fun. And anyway, now I’m scheduled for dental surgery.

We got to the studio early. The engineers instructed us to wear “roomy clothes,” and not to eat anything that would cause “digestive noises” over the microphone.

It bears mentioning: My wife and I have never recorded an audiobook together. Frankly, I did not know you COULD record an audiobook with your wife and keep all your guy-parts intact.

The studio’s method of operation was simple. First, I would read my portion of the manuscript into the mic, then it would be Jamie’s turn. This required painstaking effort and a lot of concentration. Then, once we successfully nailed the reading of one section, after thousands of retakes, the audio engineer would happily pronounce that “Your stomach was rumbling in that last take.” Then we’d start all over again.

I was given the role of “director of audiobook.” Which meant I had to give Jamie direction.

This role was given to me because I have been recording audiobooks for years now. Actually, in another lifetime, I used to record radio jingles and announcements.

These jingles were recorded in a basement studio, then shipped off to small mom-and-pop stations all over the nation. My voice advertised everything from home renovations to wholesale senior diapers.

The most difficult part of being a jingle singer was getting jingles out of your head after work. These were godawful ear-worms that bored themselves into your frontal lobe. Even after all these years, I still have millions of jingles stuck in my head.

Sometimes, for example, I will be stuck in traffic and I’ll start singing to myself:

“Leiberth and Sons, Pittsburgh’s premier picked prices! You’ll save TONS! At Leiberth and Sons…!”

The above lyrics were originally sung at rapid speed and proved to be a tongue twister for me. I remember singing this ad for hours on end in the studio, butchering the lyrics with each take:

“Pittsburgh’s pisk low papal…!” “Pittsburgh’s pecking pap-smear…!” “Pittsburgh’s pickled panties…!” After my 1,029,884th unsuccessful attempt, I was taken outside and flogged by Leiberth and his sons.

But getting back to the audiobook. As director, I was tasked with directing my wife’s portion of the recording. Which seemed like a good idea, until you consider that my wife is not accustomed to taking direction from me.

Me being director was definitely not part of our wedding vows. When my wife and I stood at the altar, nearly twenty-three years ago, I promised to love, honor, kill all domestically invasive vermin, and unclog the bathtub even though only one of us has long hair.

So there I was, directing my wife during recording. I was offering my suggestions gently. I told my wife to use plenty of “diction,” and to “enunciate” clearly. My wife just smiled and told me I was being a “patronizing diction” who ought to go “enunciate himself.”

This is the kind of abuse you take when you are creative director. Still, despite all this, when our recording session was finished, Jamie and I high-fived. We were thrilled to complete our first book together. This is one of the most fun things we’ve ever done together.

One of the audio engineers was touched by our display of joy. He told me he is engaged, then asked if I had any marriage advice.

So, I told him the truth. I told him the key to our marital success has to do with a sacred promise we made to each other a long time ago: I don’t run her life, and I don’t run mine.