It's Me, Sara Louise

It started with this chocolate Santa. The Husband came home from the épicerie with it for me. So very sweet, but oh how I’d love him so much more if he was made of cheese instead (the chocolate Santa, not The Husband). And that brings up an important question; 

So The Husband came home with this chocolate Santa, which is like the sweetest thing ever, almost as sweet as when he came home with those Nutella stuffed doughnuts (Which he did again this week! I’m beginning to think The Husband likes his women a little on the pudgy side).  

And then he announced that he would be waiting on me for the day. I’m not sure why, or what for, he certainly wasn’t in any sort of trouble (that I’m aware of) but if your husband tells you that you aren’t going to have to lift a finger all day you kinda roll with it, no?

I became an island unto myself on the couch with my magazines while The Husband busied himself with the art of waiting on his lady (me). He started to make a fire, do this dishes, and make hot chocolate all at the same time. It was like the Tasmanian devil was whirling around my house. The path of destruction that was left in his wake was a thing of beauty. 

So what if the house smells like burned milk, Fifty has dish soap on his head (don’t ask) and I had to find  ‘how to build a fire’ instructions on ehow? 

I felt like a princess all day.

bisou