It’s our sixth anniversary. I’m not one to make too much of these sorts of things, but it did, as it turned out, hurt my feelings when Husband set out on a three-hour biking photography expedition, leaving me home to finish cleaning the bathrooms. Sure, he asked me several times if I was okay with it, but I know how much he enjoys taking pictures, and we didn’t have any specific plans, so I told him to go ahead. And then I was sad to be alone, that he didn’t want to do something fun together. So while he was gone, Little Girl and I went to my favorite restaurant and were sure to order dessert.
This afternoon our Atlanta home, still nowhere near being sold, had an open house. Yesterday the real estate agent called us to tell us she was quite sick and a colleague would be showing it for us. Okay, sick is sick. Except she had friended me on Facebook and her status for today was “going to church, going to a birthday party, watching [some sporting event].” Niiiice. And we haven’t heard a thing about the open house.
And, particularly awesomely, an asshole who (date) raped me in high school suddenly contacted me via email this evening. Like I want something to do with him. I’ll just ignore it, but I hate that he’s now in my thoughts. Hate.
So, not my favorite anniversary so far, then.
