The Stars and the Cookie Jar

I love my wife. Without my wife, I would live in a squalid hell with lots of dirty dishes in the sink and a lot of crud in the dishwasher, because I never remember to pre-wash my dishes. She does all the neatening, all the organising, and all the pillow-fluffing in our apartment. She makes our apartment a home.

This morning, my wife went to queue for our Thanksgiving turkey (nicely pre-ordered) and my boss' Thanksgiving turkey (not so nicely pre-ordered).

See, my boss was supposed to go out of town and not need a turkey.

But she did.

That's really all that needs to be said. Except that I want to publically thank my wife for standing in queue in the madness of a Whole Foods Market the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. In the end, everyone got a good turkey -- not the right turkey maybe, but a good turkey -- and everything will work out. And that's thanks to my wife, who is running around like a crazy person today.

Thank you, honey. I love you.