Well, it’s been another stupid weekend of work for me, and I think the missus should win a Nobel Peace prize for not wanting to kill me yet. Not only does she not want to kill me (yet), she wants nothing more than to take care of things. Have I mentioned that I’m married to the greatest woman on earth?
Let’s just start with the way this apartment looks. I mean, it’s as organized as the dewey decimal system, and we’ve been here two weeks. Who does this? And do you have any idea how awesome it is to come home to a squeaky clean, warm, comfy, kick ass apartment after an 80-hour week? The answer is: very awesome.
Last week she wanted to make sure I was eating well during these stupid hours I’ve been putting in. So she went to Whole Foods, bought lunchmeat, fruit, and snacks, and made me a brown sack lunch every day of the week. Just to make sure my new partner didn’t feel left out, she made one for him too. He can’t stop talking about it.
Tonight I left work at 10:30 (for which I received many a stinkeye from a group of hipsters pulling their third straight all-nighter), only to return home to a closet full of freshly laundered clothes. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this woman, but I hope she doesn’t come to her senses any time soon.
P.S. Just in case I haven’t built a strong enough case for having the greatest wife on earth, please note the newest addition to our wallspace. The fact that this idea got green-lighted by the missus still has me in shock. Look at them. Ooooooh. Just look at them.
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