Resting my head where I had just given him a peck, I said softly, "Hey, you know what tonight is?"
He was silent for a beat. Then, very sweetly, he turned around in my arms and said, "The fifteenth. It's our anniversary." And then he kissed my forehead and smiled. My eyes must have widened because he cocked his head and scrunched his brow. "What? Am I forgetting something else? What's tonight?"
"Shit," I owned up. "I was just really excited because it was recycling night. I totally forgot it was our anniversary!"
To be fair, it wasn't like it was a yearly anniversary or anything so I'm not a complete monster. But this is the person I've turned into since we moved into the row house: I get PSYCHED for garbage and recycling night. I don't know what it is, but I love getting rid of things. And we had a LOT of recycling this week.
That said, Pete just shook his head at me and went back to stirring the pot on the stove. I went and took the recycling out. The dogs followed me like little shadows from the back of the house to the front to the back again several times, their little toe nails clicking behind me on the hardwood floors.
This story wasn't meant to demonstrate that I am heartless beast who abuses her incredibly sweet boyfriend (although that sometimes feels true), but to show that the little things really get us excited about home-ownership. For me, it's taking out the garbage and organizing the recycling. For Pete, it's mowing the lawns. I told a friend this the other day and he said, "I'm so happy you weirdos found each other. You know most people hate that stuff, right?"