After a day of jubilation, I walk through the door and am greeted by the smells of pot roast, mashed chipotle sweet potatoes and broccoli. He's cooked dinner and is putting on the finishing touches. I no sooner get the "thank you!" out (as it's 7:30 and I've been working late), then I go into the bedroom. On the bed are a pile of my clothes that he washed and folded. I change out of my work clothes and into my comfy clothes, make my way back to the kitchen and Chef has a glass of wine waiting on me. How did I get so lucky?
While I always appreciate this kind of help and treatment, the fact that he knew that I was having a high stress week was extra special. What it comes down to is this: Nanna nanna boo boo. He's mine. Not yours. I'm so lucky!!
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