Seven Year Bitch

Let's just start the count now...how many times will I get to hear that in the next year? I predict 19,749,629. Place yer bets.

Today is the anniversary of me and the man. Seven years today. We've been together 11, and married seven of those....and if you look at my age over thar, under my most beeeeeeeutimous picture, you do the math. He's been my main squeeze for pretty much all of my adult life...I say "pretty much" because when you have a child at 16, your adult life tends to start a bit sooner. Regardless, he's been there through thick and thin, better or waaaaaaaaay worser, good or bad...shit like that. I love him more than cheese. And he loves me back. I'm still not so sure what that says about him, but whatever...

Here's what I promise him in the coming year:

1. I promise not to point and laugh at you when you talk in Star Trek speak, refer to yourself as Locutus or tell me you want to run a "Level Two Diagnostic on my Jefferies Tube"

2. I promise to fold your socks more. I know, I know...it's not my strong suite...but seriously, dude. I don't even wear socks, so it's just like an additional chore I hafta do. I don't get nuthin out of it (selfish, yes). But because you get all huffy when you gotta go digging through the sock *box* for work socks...I will fold them for you. And I'll even make sure they match.

3. I promise not to shake the living shit out of you when your sleeping, and wake you up just to tell you that your snoring is causing this girl on the fray to want to smother you with your cat....more than once twice a week.

4. I promise to be more open to Jazz. I'll stop calling it "Doing it" Music, and maybe learn to appreciate someone who isn't Kenny G. But I can't promise that I'll stop making that Bow-Chica-Bow-Ow sound everytime the radio plays something by Spyro Gyra. Cuz dude. That is porn music personified.

5. I promise not to have a headache, be too tired, or be "blogging", more than once twice a week.

6. I promise I won't call your coffee Frou Frou anymore. If you want to drink Vanilla Flowers, Grammy's Pumpkin Pie Yummyness, or Mocha Berry Surprise coffee...I won't make fun of you by calling you Nancy and instructing you on the proper way to hold your coffee cup. Pinky out, of course.

7. I promise to be more accepting of the fact that you take a billion years in the bathroom. I know, I've said this before, but I'm really going to try to be more patient with you. No more spanking the monkey jokes...no more quips about your needing your primping time...none of it. I'll be good. Really.

8. I promise not to call you chicken legs anymore. Ok, this one is gonna be harder for me, because really, dude...you have some skinny ol' chicken legs. And I really don't think this one even bothers you all that much...but since I'm working on that whole being nicer to my husband thing, I figured I'd throw this one in the hat too.

9. This one is a give and take...I promise that I will get better about the dishes and the laundry....if you'll promise to stop leaving your tennis shoes with your socks tucked neatly in each one, so it looks like somebody got vaporized out of those puppies. Oh, and if you'll fill up the tank on my car more than once a year.

10. Last but not least...I promise you me. Without all the crap hanging in my head from the last couple of years. This year you get the "old" me. Hang on to your seats, ladies and germs.

Happy Seventh Anniversary, Locutus. Much love on ya.

Grass Roots - Midnight Confessions