I sent P a barrage of emails around lunchtime today with requests for Xmas – bras, knickers, Wodehouse – and then remembered to ask him if he was feeling better (he was all hot and shiver-y last night and growly this morning about the level of noise I made in the shower which *surely* is a symptom of a deadly disease).
When he got back from a client lunch (oh Christmas, you are full of events
that seem like treats but are still work underneath it all), he thanked me for
my concern for his delicate constitution and wished me a happy anniversary. It’s only been 10 months since we got married
but we’re both basically convinced that while we were pretty good at de facto,
we’re likely to be hopeless at married, so we’re congratulating ourselves on
the small milestones. I had completely
forgotten and promptly became concerned about the need to keep our marriage
alive. Over a series of increasingly
desperate emails, I sent P a variety of suggested activities to keep us
together that finished with :
the Beach Boys back catalogue or eating cookies or something”
He said that those options were very different but nonetheless appealing
when done with me, but had I been drinking?
I think I need to work on my marriage maintenance skills.