Would you like me to gag you with a sweet story about my husband?
He slaved away yesterday afternoon making me Chicago style Pizza from scratch that I was going to eat for dinner and then bring with me to work for my lunch. It was great, minus the fact that he got a little carried away with the seasoned salt in the meat, and after I ate it for "dinner", didn't want to eat again for "lunch" at work and I whined about not wanting a single ready-made thing we had at the apartment. And even though he had just bought groceries for me that day, he went back to the stove, cooked me another entire 3 course meal and brought it to me at work so I didn't have to eat something I wasn't in the mood for. He even taped a sweet little "I love you" note to my tubaware.
He is currently at home cleaning house and doing laundry for me. I don't know what I would do without him! He is the bomb diggity; the mustard to my hotdog (he HATES mustard, but I don't like hotdogs without it); the mayo to my sourdough jack; the cheese sauce to my broccoli!
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