Like a boyscout, my husband is always prepared. Storm coming? The spare mattress will be propped up in the hallway next to our most inside closet, along with the weather radio and enough flashlights to illuminate The Great American Ballpark before you can say "tornado."
I only make fun of you for the things I love most about you. After all, only you with your infinite preparedness could possibly live with this high-maintenance diva for twelve years and still wake up with a smile on your face every (other) morning.
Happy Anniversary, babe.
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