Reasons why I love the husband [sometimes]:
1. It's midnight, I'm up with insomnia watching Gilmore Girls [of course] when the husband climbs into bed, eyes already closed from being so tired. It's quiet, except for the t.v., until I hear the husband, with his eyes still closed, say, "I'm sorry, there's no fucking way Rory is valedictorian over Paris. That's fucking bullshit."
2. I pull on the chain for the ceiling fan and it snaps off inside the fucking fan part. The husband will let me stew in my anger for a few days, hating how anytime anything breaks in this house, it just stays broken [bedroom window, bathroom fan, Jesus, we are the fucking Beverly Hillbillies before they discovered black gold]. Then he'll try and fix it. He usually can't, but I'll give him points for trying. Although I also deduct points for letting me stew.
3. When it's dark outside, he will go outside and close the garage door or take out the trash after we've watched something scary, even though there may be chupacabras or sewer monsters or those fucking creepy ass people from The Strangers:
|Source. This is what I think happens when you go outside at night after watching something scary.|
5. His genes gave the girl these amazing giant eyes and mile-long eyelashes. Because I have tiny, squinty eyes and sparse lashes, I am very, very grateful for this. As is the girl. Or she will be when she realizes what a lucky draw she got.