The benefit of living with someone who perpetually has a tendency to drive you up a wall is that occasionally the person makes it all worth while. Yesterday I came home after a long and busy Monday at work, threw open the front door, and there was the dining room- full of every blazing candle in the house, a tablecloth, a corkscrew, and smooth jams on the stereo. I walked into the kitchen just long enough to be handed a plate of steak, baked potato, and broccoli with cheese. We opened a bottle of red and sat down to dinner like a couple of adults. No food on the coffee table in front of the t.v. No t.v. at all. And he asked me how my day went and actually listened. And told me he knew he hadn’t been there much for me lately and wanted to do something nice for me to show me how much I mean to him.
We followed dinner with snuggling on the couch and by ten p.m., after another glass of wine and some red velvet cake, we were both ready to crawl into bed. To sleep, you dirty reader you.
Today, however, was decidedly less romantic. I’ve been begging to put up the Christmas tree since Thanksgiving and now that we’re at the two week mark, I’m getting crabby about the whole thing. Except he wanted to get pizza and watch some program on t.v. until ten. And go out with his friends at 12. So at 10:30, because I am incredibly passive-aggressive when I want my way, I went into the front room and began putting up the tree. And had succeeded, including the lights and three ornaments when he asked if I would wait. Wait- again. Until tomorrow so we could put up the ornaments together. And I pouted. To which he replied, “Well, I know I said we’d do it Monday, but I was a little busy making you a romantic dinner.”
Damn, he’s good. Foiled again in my fiendish plan to be the wronged party.