Adam and I will be married a year next Sunday, which means that I will now subject you all to yet another post explaining how lucky I am to be married to him. (This is appropriate, since, having taken his last name, I am now officially Lucky myself.)
Last night I was sad. I had the PMS, I was feeling blue about some friends who are having woes of their own, and I was reading A Moveable Feast, which, while a great book, is tough to take.
“It’s just that Hemingway had all this love,” I explained to Adam. “And he wasted all of it.”
He’d asked why I was sniffling. We were in bed, about to go to sleep. “So what?” he asked. “Stupid of him.”
“Or maybe just careless,” I said. “Everyone is careless. It is stupid. But it’s also terrifying.”
“Not us,” he said, into my shoulder. He raised his chin and looked me in the eyes. Of his many beautiful features, his eyes might be the winner. They’re big and brown and always a little sad, even when he’s joking around. Which he wasn’t. I thought.
“No,” I said. “Not us.”
He stroked my hair. “There’s only one thing to do.”
“?”
“We must find the anteater.”
I covered my nose instinctively. “Oh no. Oh no, surely not.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He leaned in toward my nose and stuck out his tongue. “We must find the anteater and utilize his skills at rootling out problems.”
“NO! NO ANTEATERS IN MY NOSE!”
“No? Well, that’s a shame. It’s the quickest way in. But I guess he can just go in through this ear…”
It’s very difficult to be gloomy when someone claiming to be an anteater is trying to stick his tongue in your nose and ears.
Image: Artisticdoom.com
Jennie Smash 
Wow, he was worth the wait, anteater and all. ❤