Little Things

My alarm goes off at 3:45am so I can take my thyroid pill.

My alarm goes off a second time at 5am telling me it’s ok to get up and make coffee (because I can’t eat or drink and hour before or after I take my thyroid pill and I refuse to wait an hour after I get up. So I do it like this.)

His alarm goes off sometime after 5am.  In the summer, I’m normally awake. In the winter, I’m still sleeping. But I normally get up before him.


His second alarm goes off a little bit later.  He gets up then. He kisses me and tells me he loves me.

His third alarm goes off at 8am to remind him to take his pills.

I made the coffee this morning. His socks and underwear were washed and dried, but not folded nor put away. I was working already when he got up.  He snuggles his face into the crook of my neck.  He says it’s his favorite place. He kisses me and tells me he loves me.

I go downstairs for a second cup, I make him his first. In  his To-go-cup. I kiss him and tell him I love him.

He goes outside to do his work, the work of a property manager, but he kisses me first and tells me he loves me. But he also clears the mounds of snow off of my car because he knows I’m running errands today. It’s 2 degrees outside, but with the wind chill factor, it feels like it’s 15 below. His hands are ice and he wants to put them in my warm spots when he comes in.  I laugh and tell him the dog has a warm belly. He puts his icy hands on her warm belly and she growls at him.  Then he puts them down the back of Zane’s shirt.


Zane does school. I blog and work on my projects.

I warm leftovers for lunch. Correction. He heats the leftovers today. I didn’t hear him come in. We sit together in front of the TV and watch recorded episodes of our favorite shows. NCIS. Bones.House.  We pray. We eat. We kiss and  say I love you before we go back to work.

Somedays he cooks dinner. Somedays I cook. Today he’s cooking chicken cattiatore.


The dishes are mostly mine. I hate putting away, so I make Zane empty the dishwasher. I hate putting away clothes, too, and that’s why they have to dig in the pile to find matching socks.  And why I just lay all the other clothes flat out and deliver them to rooms to be hung on hangers.  It’s why we have no clean towels in the bathroom. They’re in a pile. Clean. It’s why our suitcases are still on our bedroom floor with clothes spilling out from them from the trip we took almost a month ago.

It used to bother him, how I don’t do well at putting things away.  But now? He’s happy for clean clothes. Even if he has to dig. And I’m happy that sometimes he cooks, even if I have to clean.


We’ll go to bed the same way we woke, saying I love you.

One thing I’m glad I never put away? Our love. It’s there every day, all day, we hug, we kiss, we say I love you. Constantly.

It’s the little things.

Living like this,

I don’t need a single thing other than his love.


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