If My Life Was Scripted
Snippets of my life for the last 18 or so hours.
Yesterday. 6 p.m.
Her: So, I'm kind of planning something for our anniversary. It will require us to get up earlier than normal.
Me: Define "earlier than normal."
Her: Four o'clock. I'll set the alarm and pack up lots of coffee.
Me: OK.
Last Night. 9:30 p.m.
Her: So everyone at The Compound now knows what I have in store. Tom helped me time this all out so we miss rush hour traffic.
Me: Soooo...you're taking me far away?
Her: Not telling you.
Me: What's open at 5 a.m. other than diners?
Her: Bakeries.
Me: Churches!
Her: Small rocks!
Me: A duck! I love you. No...really...what's open?
You're not driving me to some deserted road somewhere, are you?
Her : What?! What kind of date would that be? How do you even think of something like that? What is wrong with you? You know what? Just stop guessing.
This morning. 4 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
I reach over to hit snooze on my silent alarm clock. I feel stupid, but thankful that Lindsey most likely didn't notice. Until now.
This morning. 4:05 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
I do not make the same mistake twice. Continue to snuggle.
This morning. 4:10 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
Her: We should get up.
Me: Murfaslurgh.
This morning. 4:45 a.m.
Her: I can't believe I woke you up at 4 a.m., and put you in a car, and you still like me.
Me: I'd follow you anywhere. The coffee helps.
This morning 5:25 a.m.
Scene: Lindsey's car is pulled over on a remote country road (great wild-ass guess on my part, eh?). We sit in two folding chairs as we sip hot coffee, eat PB&J sandwiches and look up toward an awesome meteor shower...that undoubtedly was really amazing above all those clouds in the sky. Then it started sprinkling. And we laughed. Because really? I love that, after three years of marriage and six and a half years together, we still go on adventures. And if those adventures don't quite go as planned? Even better.
Lindsey, my sweet, I'd walk from a broken-down train through a tapioca field in Thailand with you any day. I'd happily sit in front of a barbed wire fence searching for hidden meteors. I'd drive cross-country without snow tires with you. You're the best thing in my life, and you always will be. Happy Anniversary! I love you more than chocolate.
Yesterday. 6 p.m.
Her: So, I'm kind of planning something for our anniversary. It will require us to get up earlier than normal.
Me: Define "earlier than normal."
Her: Four o'clock. I'll set the alarm and pack up lots of coffee.
Me: OK.
Last Night. 9:30 p.m.
Her: So everyone at The Compound now knows what I have in store. Tom helped me time this all out so we miss rush hour traffic.
Me: Soooo...you're taking me far away?
Her: Not telling you.
Me: What's open at 5 a.m. other than diners?
Her: Bakeries.
Me: Churches!
Her: Small rocks!
Me: A duck! I love you. No...really...what's open?
You're not driving me to some deserted road somewhere, are you?
Her : What?! What kind of date would that be? How do you even think of something like that? What is wrong with you? You know what? Just stop guessing.
This morning. 4 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
I reach over to hit snooze on my silent alarm clock. I feel stupid, but thankful that Lindsey most likely didn't notice. Until now.
This morning. 4:05 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
I do not make the same mistake twice. Continue to snuggle.
This morning. 4:10 a.m.
*HORRIBLEHORRIBLEUGLYSOUNDOFLINDSEY'SALARMCLOCK*
Her: We should get up.
Me: Murfaslurgh.
This morning. 4:45 a.m.
Her: I can't believe I woke you up at 4 a.m., and put you in a car, and you still like me.
Me: I'd follow you anywhere. The coffee helps.
This morning 5:25 a.m.
Scene: Lindsey's car is pulled over on a remote country road (great wild-ass guess on my part, eh?). We sit in two folding chairs as we sip hot coffee, eat PB&J sandwiches and look up toward an awesome meteor shower...that undoubtedly was really amazing above all those clouds in the sky. Then it started sprinkling. And we laughed. Because really? I love that, after three years of marriage and six and a half years together, we still go on adventures. And if those adventures don't quite go as planned? Even better.
Lindsey, my sweet, I'd walk from a broken-down train through a tapioca field in Thailand with you any day. I'd happily sit in front of a barbed wire fence searching for hidden meteors. I'd drive cross-country without snow tires with you. You're the best thing in my life, and you always will be. Happy Anniversary! I love you more than chocolate.