Tyson and I celebrated our ten month anniversary yesterday. We went to Kneaders after institute and sipped on hot chocolates while looking out the window at the falling snow. I’m not going to lie, most of the time, I was staring at my reflection, trying to figure out if I liked my headband or not. It’s supposed to cover my ears against the cold, but most of the time, I end up feeling self-conscious about what it looks like and taking it off. It happens.
Anyway, after I asked Tyson what his life was like before he met me (besides terribly lonely), our conversation drifted towards the mundane. At one point, I interrupted what he was saying with, “PS, we need toilet paper. Can you pick some up tomorrow?” Super romantic, I know.
It may have just been because the inside of Kneaders was all red and pink hearts and half-naked-arrow-pointing babies, but I started thinking about romance. When you get married at 21 and you’re working full-time while your husband goes to school full-time, sometimes it feels like there isn’t a whole lot of time for romance. There’s hardly even time to pick up toilet paper or put laundry away (typed the person that’s currently sitting on a pile of laundry) (surprisingly comfortable, if you must know). For now, I will choose to find romance in what Tyson said to me when we were driving to institute: “Thanks for making marriage super fun. I knew it would be fun, but I didn’t think it would be this fun.” I know, he’s kind of the best.