Not going to lie: I have a pretty great husband. He's very good to me. Case in point: He told me he was going to the supermarket and was going to get me a surprise. The surprise is a lunch of homemade chicken noodle soup (with homemade stock broth) and grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. Roy knows I don't eat grilled cheese unless there is, at least, tomato on it.
Roy and I also have a funny little thing we do, wherein I make some sort of noise ("La la?") and he responds ("La."). Weird, right? Well, it's pretty great, because everyone else just looks at my like I'm a nutcase.
Last night Roy called me worried. We were driving home separately, and I was ahead of him. There was on huge accident, which I must have missed by a minute, but Roy didn't know that and was concerned. It may seem silly to love that he did that; I mean, who wouldn't be concerned, right? Yet it is so amazing to have someone that concerned for you. Everyone should have that. I am very lucky.
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