My dearest, most beloved, highly regarded, awe-inspiring, husband, Eric,
‘Sup? I was instructed to write a letter to you, but Im not sure what I am supposed to say here that I dont tell you everyday. Is it supposed to be all mushy-gooshy? Should I say that I love you more than Dixie loves big-runs? More than Harmi loves pizza crust? More than Buddy loves ice cream? Should I say that I am beyond proud of you and how far you have come in the battle with (some of) your personal demons?
Maybe this is supposed to point out all of your straight-white-Christian-male flaws? You know, the fact that you never put your socks in the basket, leave the toilet seat up, dont wash behind your ears. and always wait until I make a snack to make something incredibly delicious, leaving me with crap-snack (that one does piss me off).
Should I take this space and describe in vivid detail my hopes and dreams for our future? Do I need to compose a Power Point presentation?
I guess I just dont get it. Perhaps, sitting here now, I have really just realized how well we communicate. There is no need for me to write letters to you in my blog because I tell you how much I love you daily, you know what pisses me off (and you still do it) and we pretty much have the same plans for our future. I mean, this is why we call it “our future”, right?
Our lines of communication are pretty open and flowing freely. In fact if I wanted to say, “Hey cock-knock, I love you” all I would have to do is yell it across the room (and I just did ) to which you would return the gesture with a gesture of your own…a finger gesture.
So, in closing, I love you, your flaws, your smartass, and your Monkey ways. God help us, we are stuck together to walk through this piss trough they call life. It might stink at times, but I wouldnt want to share it with another person.
Yours, like it or not,
Niki
P.S. But really, would it kill you to vacuum? Those damn stickers are going to be the death of me. Stop! Its not funny!
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