My dear Craig:
How sad you were last Friday to see there was no “letter to my husband!” But you fox you. You’ve taken to expect them regularly on Fridays now — haven’t you? — and it’s only a strange treat if you read any other day’s post (but how I loved your comment this past week!).
The thing is you were gone most day Friday and upon your absence one of two things happen. I either finally get some work done because we’re not otherwise having a ball or I mope and watch TV for countless hours waiting for you to come home.
This is the sort of behavior people find repulsive in other couples. But in us, this is adorable, no?
There are couples who would drive each other crazy were they in each other’s presence all day each day. We are not these people. We dream of winning the lottery not for the money itself — though it would be nice, yes, very nice — but because it would mean never having to go to work leaving the other behind.
(Wow, from the outside looking in, I’ll admit we’re sounding saccharine myself).
But there wasn’t anything I could have told you last week that I can’t tell you today, too. Like about being thankful for all you do for me. Like sitting through marathons of Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Like the mean frozen pizza you bake when I can’t think of a thing for dinner. Your psuedo-Vulcan mind melds to ease the pressure in my head. How you organized the mess that was the man room. How you fill my water sippy bottle so I don’t forget to drink.
My cup runneth over.
Forever and ever,