Happy two years, friend

Welcome back to me. We're back online again, having just gotten internet at our new dwelling. I know you're all ecstatic. We're safely moved, and although I know you're all dying to hear every detail, it'll have to wait. Because...drumroll please...today is our two year anniversary! And we still like each other and stuff! So I thought it would be an appropriate topic for this post. I'm pretty excited, because my mother has Madeline for the evening. It'll be her first overnighter. When Jessie asked what I wanted to do for our anniversary, I told him I wanted to sleep. And the darling man wasn't too disheartened by the fact that I was almost more excited by the prospect of sleeping as long as I wanted than a Madeline-free date night. Some guys would get a little offended. Not my guy. That's why he's a keeper. It's been a marvelous afternoon, in which I got to shower when I felt like it, exercise without the weight of a seven month old around my ankle, and take a little nap. I contemplated taking a bubble bath, but it felt like too much work getting it ready. It's sad when you're too lazy for luxury.

However, I am looking forward to getting pampered tonight: aka, I'm not cooking. Some guy/girl at Applebee's will do it for me. After that, being the cool procrastinators we are, we're not exactly what we're doing other than contemplating the joys of being married two whole years. We made a deal that we're going to die when we're 120 (or rather, when I'm 120, since Jessie is an old geezer), in order to enjoy 100 years of wedded bliss. That means we're 2% of the way there. Plus that whole eternity thing, but we don't factor that into the math because I was playing tetris on my calculator when we covered infinity in math class. I guess we'll be able to handle marriage a while longer. Jessie's pretty cool about tolerating all of my weird quirks, and he even aids and abets me in my chocolate obsession. He read Harry Potter for me, and doesn't mock me when I want to be home for the Office or Heroes. He's not a bad cook, lugged all my shoes through two moves so far, and hasn't yet made me dispose of my giant hippo collection. So here's to you, my patient spouse. I promise to always be interested in your spreadsheets, keep your love of chick flicks a secret, and let you beat me at bowling, all while being really impressed at your handyman skills and ability to make up songs with no real melody or rhyme scheme. Te amo!