We sat at my Grandma and Grandpa’s house with my sisters and brothers and we were all, “it’s your anniversary!?!”
And Grandpa, with that teasing glint in his eye, was all, “yep sure is…52 years married to the wrooooong woman.”
And we were all “Grandpa!!”
And Grandma was all, “Oh shush Joe!” and she turned to us and said, “He’s been singing that song to me every year since we been married…just tacks on another year married to the wrong woman.”
I, on the other hand, forget our anniversary every year. Two years ago I wrote about how I forgot and he remembered and waited for me to remember, but I didn’t until he told me and then I got mad at him for remembering but still not getting me anything.
Last year we both forgot. Completely. Did nothing.
This year he remembered AND? Surprised me with plans he actually put together all by himself! HE arranged a mysterious activity. HE arranged for the kids to be watched overnight at Grandma’s house. And he asked me to take Friday off so he could whisk me away to…I don’t even know where.
I don’t know where because my kid got sick and we had to cancel all our plans.
Tonight I celebrated ten years married to the wrong man over Olive Garden take out while our kids stuffed their faces with McDonald’s and cookies.
Perfection.