Credit where it's due
This is not to say that he cannot be sweet or romantic - he can, and he is - he just doesn't like being told that he HAS to be sweet and/or romantic within the confines of one mass-market, commercial, Hallmark-created, 24-hour period in February or risk the wrath of a pissed-off spouse. He would rather do so on his own terms.
And I GET that. I do. And I don't totally disagree with it. But that said, I still appreciate a small token of affection within the confines of a certain 24-hour period in February nonetheless. Last year, he didn't even wish me a Happy Valentine's Day and by about 5 p.m. I was practically homicidal. I'm still surprised he lived to tell the tale of how his wife went crazy one Valentine's evening.
I told him on that day, just over a year ago, that I did not need some big lavish production. I did not need a store-bought card or a dozen roses, or chocolates or jewelry or any of it. A nice note and a sincere smooch would do it.
Well, apparently, he was listening, because look what I found on my desk yesterday morning:
And here's the inside:
I'm so lucky!
::cue the "awwwwws"::
(And yes, he signed his last name. He always does. It is part of the magic that is him).
Labels: Domestic bliss