A day in the life of a marriage. The good and the bad. And proof that even with all those little annoying little things that drive us nuts about each other, we still feel the love.
"Honey, where is the remote control?" He asks in an almost condescending tone of voice.
"Are you kidding me?"
"No. I looked everywhere for it and I can't find it."
I stop reading blogs and climb the stairs. I step over the baby gate (to keep Roy out of the bedrooms), motioning that I am zipping an imaginary zipper on my lips closed because I cannot believe that I have to find the stinking remote control for a thirty-five year-old man again!
"Did you check on the bed?"
"Yes, I looked everywhere, I told you."
I pull the down comforter all the way down and wait to hear the telltale thump of something heavy falling off the bed. Nothing. I pick up each pillow and shake them, because sometimes remote controls have a tendency to fall inside pillowcases. Nothing. I check behind the bed, between the headboard and the wall. Nothing. I unfold the wool blanket neatly lying across the foot of the bed. Bingo!
"I really should be charging for this service" I mutter as I mumble something else about "incompetent men" and "how would he survive if I weren't here?"
And he gives me a big kiss and says, "thank you."