Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I sometimes say that my husband is not a good roommate. He is romantic, funny, brilliant, a walking dictionary/history book/U.S. Constitution/policy think tank/poetry anthology, and a snappy dresser...but maybe a bit messy and disorganized, yes?

But I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in the trenches with, and that's a fact.

We spent our 18th wedding anniversary in bed. With fevers, chills, severe stomach upset, and the energy levels of slugs. After having driven back from Georgia with two children who had fevers, chills, projectile stomach upset (Huzzah, new car! You have been hereby baptized in the fire!), and the energy level of slugs.

But, again: with no one else would I have wanted to share that singular experience. No one.

1 comment:

Remlerville said...

Only you can make vomit sweet. I loved this posting. Happy anniversary!