Friday, July 2, 2010

I Slapped Him With My Foot

I slapped Mr. Wonderful with my foot last night. It's true. It didn't hurt him a bit and it relieved me of some frustration, so hey, I'm glad I did it.

Ya'll know I've moved to the lovely, flowertopia town of Fairhope, Alabama. And you would think  I would be supremely happy at all times, what with singing to the birds and squirrels and Franklin the cat to keep me company. However, I've actually been in a slight depression of late, and I needed to talk. To my man.

So, he got home from work and his daily exercise regimen (God love him, he's so disciplined!) and I hit him with it. Not my foot just yet, but the news: I Am Down In The Dumps, Please Help.

And guess what he did? He listened. I am so grateful because I know he wanted to hide his face in a pillow and scream and run away, far far away. But he didn't, he just sat there and listened and tried to 'get me'. And he told me some stories that made me laugh which cheered me up. He also did an AVATAR impression, and said 'I see you...' He did it with such expression, you should've seen his face. I'm still laughing.

So, we both had our feet up on the ottoman, and then I slapped his foot  with mine, and asked, 'did that hurt?' and when he said no, I said, 'good' and I did it again.

Starting over is NEVER EASY. Why can't it be easy? Why does it have to be so hard? Because. It just is and does.After we talked and the foot slapping, he said, "I love you."

You're a good man Mr. Wonderful.  I love you too.