I came home from work on Wednesday to a stinky bedroom because Josephine had vomited in her crate. Then she went outside and pooped on herself. The poop may or may not have appeared to be bloody. I went straight into worst case scenario and was certain that Josephine was going to die. Meanwhile, Michael is all "she's fine. she just ate something that doesn't agree with her." Except I was adamant that she had stomach cancer and was going to require thousands of dollars worth of surgery. The veterinarian office didn't think it sounded like an emergency and Michael took her in on Thursday.
She's fine. She just ate something that didn't agree with her.
I could not be in New York, walking down 5th Avenue, without stopping in at Tiffany's. The mothership store houses six floors with real live people operating the elevators. I tend to head for the fourth floor when I'm visiting because that's where all of the silver jewelry is contained, but Michael wanted to look at the new ridiculous housewares section. So we started on the fifth floor. Once we were on the fourth floor, I headed straight over to the charms and picked up the scooter charm. It is an exact replica of my scooter and I want it. I want it. I'm afraid to get it though because I can't figure out how to wear it. If I get it on a bracelet, I might catch it on something and rip the charm off. If I put it on a chain, it will have to compete with the other pieces I wear around my neck. It could also poke a hole in my sternum if I get squashed. I am explaining all of this to Michael when he interrupts me and says "let's go look at rings."
We looked at rings and we had a really nice sales person who listened to everything we said about what we'd like in a ring. Then I tried on THE ring and Michael asked if we should get it. I looked at him and said "I'm going to let you decide that." Then I left him at the counter and went up to the sixth floor to have my old ring re-shaped and cleaned. Later on, when we were back at the apartment and winding down from the day, Michael told me the story of buying the ring. He had explained to the salesperson and whoever was also standing near by that five years is his assessment mark of a relationship. It used to be that at the end of five years he would either leave or get married. He's only been married once. We are coming up on our five year mark and he's at a crossroads. He doesn't want to leave, but because of student loans, financially we cannot get married. So he offered me this ring as an upgrade to the first ring and then asked if we could renew our contract for another five years.
I looked at him and thought about it. He drives me crazy at times. We don't like the same kind of music. We don't gravitate to the same kinds of movies. There's a lot that we don't have in common. But when I say "I want chickens!", he builds a chicken coop. When I say "we should get a camper.", he does all of the research and work to get us a camper. When I am freaking out about the dog, he's doing whatever he can to help me stop freaking out. In fact, that tends to be is default job: Stop Cindy from Freaking Out. So, I said to him "I think that I will renew that five year contract." We'll see what happens in another five years.
I am thankful for Michael. I am thankful that Josephine is not going to die from some horrible intestinal disease. I am thankful for all of the eggs the chickens are laying because it makes me think they know that Spring is just around the corner. I am thankful for you.