|10:57 am - Happy birthday, baby|
Yes, it's true. Hoppie is 35. The calendar does not lie. And no matter how many times I tell myself, he's only 34 (but he used to be so young!), it's simply not true anymore. 34 he was, but no more.
We talked a bit last night after Monday night football which had us figuratively glued to our seats. (I won the football pool, but it was close the whole time!)
I said, "You know I'm upset that we didn't get to spend any time together this weekend, right?"
and amazingly, no "but we spent Saturday and Sunday night together!", he simply said, "Yeah." then as an afterthought, "You could have come back to bed and slept next to me."
Anyway, we're okay again for now. Relationships aren't totally self-correcting, but ours tries hard to be.
I have his birthday present in the car, just awaiting.
( Harry Potter and the deep alienationCollapse )
Current Mood: stupid
Current Music: Gordon Lightfoot, "Sundown"