It was my 13th Wedding Anniversary this week. Bleurgh. We tend not to actually celebrate our anniversary as much as use it as a pawn in our constant one-upmanship. So, if one of us happens to remember – unlikely, since we aren’t actually sure of the date and have to look it up, but it has happened – we hug it to ourselves like a delicious secret, with the sure knowledge that we know something and our opponent doesn’t.
This year, I remembered. I waited all day listening to the sound of his silence on the subject. Later in the evening I slipped out and bought some flowers and chocolates. Gave them to him with a flourish – Happy Anniversary Darling, I cry, with an expectant look on my face. He fumbles. It is joy to watch. He completely forgot and I wrong-footed him.
Ally thinks I am a bit weird to be happy that he forgot our anniversary. I think she can’t have been married long enough to realise the skill required to outmanoeuvre your opponent. She doesn’t think her husband is her opponent. I say HAH!
She also thinks I am a bit weird because of this:
This is my arm, the day after donating blood. I have given blood lots of times and I have never bruised. I have had innumerable blood tests. I don’t bruise. This butcher got hold of me and that bruise is huge and sore and it is so COOL!!!!!!!!!!
Thankfully it is t-shirt weather and I get to show it off.
That isn’t weird, right?