19 … but who’s counting?

Dear C,

Happy 19th monthsary! Well, I’m one day late. But admit it, you forgot, too. *hee-hee* So let’s just not-really-celebrate it a day after. Today, I thought of this picture:

Phantom tickets

… because I fell flat on my face that day and you helped me hobble to the Her Majesty’s Theatre with my knee screaming bloody murder.
… because you looked damn good that day and I developed a crush on my boyfriend. Again.
… because you let me drag you to a play without any argument, enjoyed the show, fed me pizza afterwards and didn’t get jealous even when I said I was in love with The Phantom.

Next month will be the 20th and I’m already thinking of how we’re going to not-really-celebrate it. I could send you a hairbrush since yours is so old Christie’s could probably get a good price for it (and you thought I was joking). You could offer to babysit The Little Terrorist for a few months, or better yet, a year. Or we could… that’s about it I’m afraid. Brilliant ideas just don’t occur when I have a few weeks more to think.

I love you, Goof. 🙂

S

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