People do many things for love, tru wuv.
As I have said in many ways before, Tony is an amazing man. There is nothing he wouldn't do for me. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I know most of you out there are saying to yourselves, "But they've only been married 6 short months! Who doesn't say this in the throws of passion that accompanies being newlyweds?"
We've been together nearly eight years. Eight
very long blissful years. We've had many ups and downs, moments of complete insanity, and have been two blocks south of Hell together. While that journey has brought us closer together, it has also sailed us clear into out late thirties and mid forties, cursed with loss of stamina and sarcasm that is only understood by those who have earned the right to understand. And by earned, I mean still finding each other attractive when the other lets one go, without warning, on the couch beside them.
Miracle Max: Get back, witch.
Valerie: I'm not a witch, I'm your wife. But after what you just said, I'm not even sure I want to be that any more
|Buttercup: You mock my pain. |
Man in Black: Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
There may have even been some I told you so's and You really should have's and the dreaded "I can't leave you alone for even one day?" The last one, which may or may not have made it's way to the workplace and is most likely going to torture him for the rest of his days. So, when Tony arrived home with a cast on his arm on Tuesday, it became apparent to several people that I was indeed trying to kill him.
Slowly. One body part at a time.
I mean come on. I went out of town,
But none the less... the nick penetrated a bit deeper than before. Seems he nicked a tendon. And then it popped while he was staining the corner bench, (again), for me. He gives and he gives my Pen Pals, and what do I do when he arrives home in an immobilization cast for three weeks?
And.... ask if I can paint it.
Which I was denied. *huge eye roll* I suspect it was the laughing that sealed my fate on that. Now, never fear there are some plus sides to his new appendage.
Inigo Montoya: That's a miracle pill?
Valerie: The chocolate coating makes it go down easier. But you have to wait fifteen minutes for full potency. And you shouldn't go in swimming after, for at least, what?
2. A handy note that restricts him from doing 90% of his job requirements. Would have been more handy if the note had entirely excused him from the next 3 weeks of work, but whatever.
3. Sympathy from everyone who barely knows him, and a new source of blog fodder for me.
Because you see, as sad as I am to see him toil away trying to do menial tasks he once did with ease, I am now up with him at 6am wrapping his arm with bags so he can take a shower.
And buttoning his pants.
And tying his shoes.
The above aforementioned pain pills that he can't open? Yeah. Me. Random bottles of Gatorade? Me. Moving boxes in
Jeff's Bedroom the office, buttering his pancakes, connecting the printer to his computer, fixing his seat belt in the car? Me, Me, and again, me.
It's like having a toddler again. And I am way too old, way too tired, and way too good looking to have a toddler again.
But alas, I love him. Which is why I will do it
with only the minimum recommended eye rolling for the next three weeks.
And pray to God that he doesn't need surgery.
Because if he does, "As You Wish" may take on a whole new meaning....
Pictures compliments of Google, Quotes compliments of here....