37 years ago today, Martha got married in Denver, Colorado.
37 years ago today, so did I. Also In Denver.
I don't believe in coincidences, but that one is darn tough to ignore.
When I wished her Happy Anniversary! at the breakfast table this morning she stared at me for a moment and then rested her forehead in her hand like she suddenly had a horrible headache. She had a caged animal look about her and, after regaining the power of speech, said, "Christ, has it been THAT long?"
I was ecstatic to know that, after all this time, I still have an affect on her.
And we're going out, too. In about two hours she's taking me to see Dr. Poo for the results of my colonoscopy.
Now go away, dear readers, because I have to wrap her anniversary present and that'll take about two hours. I'm giving her (actually loaning her) one of my elderly paperback books with a date of 1968. The poor thing has been sitting on the shelf for 40 years just wishing to be read again, so I think it's a really nice gesture on my part to give (loan) it to my bride.
Did I hear someone in the back row mutter cheap bastard?