Mike read this blog, from yesterday, and he scowled a bit when he came home, reminding me there were vital parts of the story missing. Parts like: he does do the dishes an awful lot (although, come on baby, definitely not more than me) and he also does other things such as picking up after me more than he ever thought he would have to and listening to me lament about Veronica Mars a solid YEAR after the show was canceled. (There's a cruise! This November! Who's with me?) But you know what I love about Mike, what I love so much it stuns me sometimes? He supports this site regardless of what I write. He's not a blathering idiot, unable to filter his thoughts like I am. He doesn't verbally vomit all over THE INTERNET like I tend to do, and yet he is still proud of this site, proud of what I write. He doesn't necessarily understand it, no, but he loves me all the same.
So, anyway, I woke up this morning to this note on our chalkboard:
(I imagine the other nine are coming.)
AND! As if that wasn't enough, I arrived to work this morning (early! look at me!), to these:
They are my favorite flower—a lavender rose—but even better, with pretty pinkish tips. They aren't from Mike, though. Molly, actually. She sent them for Mother's Day (clever little girl, stealing Dad's credit card to send her Mama pretty flowers). I gave her TWO treats when I got home today.
She was hoping for three, though. Right, baby girl?
(Mama, could you turn the flash off next time and maybe, you know, GET OUT OF MY FACE?)
As you can imagine, my Thursday was complete even before The Office came on. Mike isn't romantic. He just isn't. He doesn't write poems or send love letters or sweep me off my feet on a consistent basis. What he is, though, is thoughtful and sincere and genuine. And he does these random, wonderful things that help me stand a bit straighter, a bit stronger on my own. He's also adorable, which doesn't hurt things. But best of all? I get to keep him.
::
"You give me a quiet mind, and I love you." —Blue October