Two decades. I met my husband twenty years ago tonight.
You're thrilled and amazed, I can tell.
'Nuff said. I wrote this long sappy thing last year, and I think we're past that. We're older, wiser, whatever.
On the other hand, he was bored today and asked me if I wanted to, you know... while the kids were at school. (Don't even get me started on school. Not going well, I'm finally admitting it. There. I said it. Tomorrow I begin to rectify the situation.)
So we're old, but not dead, apparently.
I'm in the midst of going out four nights in a row and was just asked by a hot, young soccer player if I'd like to come watch his game tomorrow night. "We get drinks after," he said.
"Sounds intriguing," I said, laughing. (Cuz one of the players is my neighbor who is as damn old as I am.)
"There's wine," he said.
My dog is talking to me and I don't know what she's saying. Maybe:
"Go to bed, row-wollrrrrr."