(no subject)
Yesterday was my three-year wedding anniversary, and I spent the evening sitting on the couch in a black jumper so filthy it's practically rotten (I like to be comfy) and brown tartan trousers so ugly I nicknamed them "the divorce pants" because my husband says they're the worst thing about our marriage. And even though he was at work till midnight, I was thinking about how nice it would have been if I had been even half as in love with him on our wedding day as I am now. There are so many jokes out there about marriage being the death-blow to love and a life-long punishment, that even I thought in the very far recesses of my mind that there might be some truth to it. How nice to be proven wrong.