25 Years of Wedded Bliss, Maybe Not

Today is my 25th wedding anniversary. Hubby and I have been kinda, sorta together for 26 years if you count the year we dated before we got married. There was a nasty little episode of an eight-year sabbatical to Texas, but we won't speak of that.

Hubby says his greatest joy in life is having me by his side. I think the boy is a little more than crazy. I'm no saint to live with, but he married me twice so I have no reason to doubt his warped sense of happiness. I have no idea why he enjoys living with an old curmudgeon like me but he does. Maybe it's because he's an old curmudgeon too. We think alike. We put up with each other. We get each other's jokes. We can have intelligent conversations, or laugh at the fact we killed a few brain cells along the way and can't remember all the words to have an intelligent conversation. There's something rather comfortable about living like that. Kinda like slipping into your favorite pair of jeans. They fit you perfectly and you only. Just right.

Tomorrow we will start on Year 26. It will be a little faded at the knees, a little ragged at the bottom, and it will have a little hole here and there. But it will be just right.