because every meal is a present
We finished dinner tonight, curled up on the couch covered in blue fuzzy blanket and nearly suffocated with cat cuddles. Our plates were empty; the screen in front was full of football. The best kind of Monday night, no?
And I looked I my husband, still slightly sweaty from his workout. I kissed his salty neck and immediately regretted it.
Then I asked him, "how was your dinner?"
My tongue still burned from the curry and he dragged himself off the couch to pour me a glass of red wine.
He brought me a cookie. I asked for two.
Two for you, two for me.
"I like to think of every meal like it's a present for you," I said.
Pumpkin pillows drenched in sugar and butter and just enough whiskey to make it interesting ... just because I love him.
Tonight's gift was a winner.