This weekend passes an astounding milestone for our family. My grandparents are celebrating their 65th wedding anniversary. 65 years! How lucky do you have to be to find someone who you won’t murder in their sleep after 65 years of minor annoyances? How hard do you have to work? Leah and I are muddling through year seven and, thank God above, she’s only put the knife to my throat and not sliced through yet. But if I’m alive in 58 years, I still want to wake up next to her every morning.
Provided I can remember who she is, and I’m not a drooling pile of vegetable matter with skin. Then she can feel free to off me at her convenience.