Happy Anniversary, Chuck. Four years ago tomorrow you made an honest woman out of me, which was no easy feat.
Last year, we celebrated our love with leather—mmm, leather—this year it's supposed to be fruit or flowers.
I don't know who's making these official lists, but if I want to commemorate my love for you with bananas and Shasta Daisies, by hell I'm going to do it.
I'm looking forward to our evening out tonight (no, not at Squirt's). I hope I don't throw up during dinner and that I can stay up past 8:30 p.m. I know you do, too. After all these years together, it's nice to know that even if I do puke and pass out, you'll be there for me.
Just like on our first date.
Thanks for being the kind, patient man you are. Thanks for being such a great father. Thanks, too, for helping out more around the house. That day you vacuumed without me asking you to was, like, one of the highlights of my life.
Seriously, I made it my Facebook status.
I know you're still kind of bummed that I haven't legally changed my name, but until people stop saying "Are you serious? That's really your last name?" to you, I'm going to have my reservations. Still, I'm wavering.
(Before I was just pretending to.)
Here's hoping for many more years together.
I love you.
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