Today Tom and I have been married for fifteen years. Go us!
This past year feels like it should count for about five years compared to the previous fourteen. But hey, we weather a health crisis and a job loss and we kept our sense of humor and I'm pretty sure we still like each other. I consider myself very lucky to be able to say that.
Our girls are happy (especially when we let them have their way) and we are a good team.
Of course, it helps that we have a living room and a family room and both rooms have televisions. I can watch all the Great British Baking I want and he can watch all the mystery/cop/murder shows he wants. Win/win and no one is asking for a divorce.
Though to be completely candid, just today over dinner I did ask him if he wanted a divorce, but that's only because he was trying to talk like 45 (I won't say his name) and it was making me crazy. I mean, give me a break here, I cover my ears whenever that pompous ass is on the television. I can't stand the sound of his voice or the sight of his gross face and orange hair. To have my very own husband, a man who claims to love me, sit across from me saying that hideous creature's words, it was too much to bear.
Thankfully, he (Tom, not 45) declared that he does not want a divorce and, best news yet, he stopped saying those words in that voice. Everybody wins.