Happy Anniversary, Honey

Eight years is shredded paper, right?

Couldn’t remember if it was shredded paper or shredded nerves, so just to be safe, I made sure I got you both. Maybe it’s sandals, in which case I got you two pair. (I just Googled it and found out the ninth anniversary is definitely the U2 Anniversary, though! Looking forward to not forgetting that one.)

Thanks for putting up with me for eight great years on Christmas Island together; The Boy, three dogs, the death of my industry, a grueling edit of an impenetrable manuscript and especially to your Dad for helping us survive the move with my gimpy back to make it to this auspicious occasion. I wouldn’t trade any of it for Labor Day or Easter.

Let’s do it again next year.