I called in sick today. I got out of bed to make the calls, and you got out and started the
teakettle.
We spent a lazy morning sitting in the living room, sipping hot cocoa and cooing little lovey noises to each other over the drone of bad cooking shows on the television. We sat and talked and cuddled, while the rest of the world went on being busy without us.
It reminded me of the weekends we used to have in the old apartment in Wicker Park. We would wake up and fill our days enjoying the new closeness that my move halfway across the country afforded us. We were oblivious to the world, reveling in the joy of love. That was all before the wedding plans ended our lazy weekends. Before I started working, and you stopped to go back to school full time. Before we got the boot from that tiny little place and moved into the gaping cavern of domestic goodness.
It made me want to quit work and spend every day with you. It made me so happy to be your husband. Thank you for a wonderful sick day.