Even though we celebrated our anniversary this weekend by doing a roadie to Kentucky our actual anniversary was yesterday. Thirteen years of wedded bliss, or something like that. Now I have to admit, I am scared to death. Thirteen has never been a good number for me. I ran over my grandparents dog, killing him, on Friday the 13th. His name was Lucky. Honest, it was. When I was 17 I got fired from a crappy waitress job on Friday the 13th. The manager said I reminded him too much of his ex-wife. It took me ten years to realize that was an insult. The point is, thirteen is just not a good fit for me. I am worried. I hope there will be a 14th anniversary.

I didn’t start the anniversary out very well. The hubster brought me a dozen long stemmed red roses. I was pissed. It was all about the timing. I was sitting at the desk paying the monthly bills. I had just finished going though his credit card bill when he walked in. I was not happy because he has been charging a bit on it recently. It took us a long time to get out of credit card debt and when I see him charging again I get upset. He chose that moment to walk in the door with this huge arrangement of beautiful long stemmed red roses from one of the most expensive florists in town. “Did you bother to look in the checkbook before you bought that?” I asked. “No” he replied, “I charged it.” I went in the other room because I was afraid I would lose it and say something I would regret. Later I did thank him for the flowers and I told him it was the thought that I appreciated and I would much prefer a $10 bouquet from the grocery store over something that cost a weeks worth of groceries. I thought I was being responsible. He thought I was being an ungrateful bitch. And in a way I guess I was being an ungrateful bitch, but a responsible one.

To make up for my ungrateful behavior I cut the grass for him today when he was at work. When he had come home for lunch he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to cut the grass tonight because of the storms moving in. So I did the deed for him this afternoon. I haven’t cut grass since I was fifteen. Did you know it has gotten a lot harder to cut grass than it was when I was a teenager? Must be something about the slope of the yard or the design of the mower nowdays. My ploy worked though and I am no longer labeled an ungrateful bitch in his eyes. Once again he thinks I am a sweet thoughtful wife. Silly man.