She had a long, rough day yesterday packing and cleaning and stuff. So she’s sleeping still instead of wandering in a fibro fog this morning. I was up putting the last coat of paint on the bathroom walls, and noticing that the 27th has arrived. And since it’s on a Saturday, we also have a nice round number of weeks we’ve been married.
Right, 1,013 weeks or 233 months ago, however you count it.
(Working on a quiet house gives one a lot of time to think.)
Last thought: brides sure know what to do with their hands. One on the guy’s elbow, and another holding flowers. Me, I just look stiff and nervous squeezing the circulation in my fingers. It’s a wonder I ever played a musical instrument again.
No matter: happy anniversary, sweetie. And to anybody else out there who got married on the 27th of the month. Good day.