The 13th Wedding Anniversary

Today is our thirteenth wedding anniversary. Skinny Kitty got me a pair of Batman cufflinks to mark the occasion. How cool is she? She is so supportive of my geekness, even attending a comic book convention in Chicago with me. Most of my dress shirts are French cuffs. I love them. There is something classy and distinctive about French cuffs. This anniversary was supposed to be one of those “we are not going to buy each other anything” as the graduate school thing is wreaking havoc on our finances. The price of food and fuel is not helping. The retort, of course, was that she bought these back in March before we made the rule. Convenient isn’t it. I don’t think that far ahead, most of the time.

You know what that means, don’t you? A trip to the store to pick out the purtiest little thing I can find on a shoestring budget. She deserves more, of course. She should get diamonds or pearls or some such glittery goodness. I keep telling her that after I get that high paying teaching job things will be different. Good old gal, that Skinny Kitty, she always laughs at that joke.

She mentioned this morning that she can’t remember living without me. Although I’m sure she’s tried to block it out on more than one occasion. I can’t hardly remember my life before her either. I’m not sure I want to. I’ve fallen into the honey pot, and that’s just fine with me.