I’m officially accepting the nomination for "Worst Wife of the Year." I forgot my husband's birthday!
Well, not entirely. But at 2:00 PM, he gently asked, "Are you going to wish me a happy birthday today?"
How does that happen after 30 years of marriage? I’ve known this man since he was 35. Today he turned 67, and for the first time in three decades, I completely missed the mark. Naturally, I handled the realization like a mature adult: I cried.
In my defense, my recent surgeries have left my brain in a bit of a fog. I haven't left the house in a month for anything other than doctor appointments, so I’m blaming the anesthesia and the general "blah" feeling. Between recovering and trying to mentally prepare for Christmas, the date just escaped me.
Time to snap out of it and focus on the family. Happy 67th to my patient husband—I owe you big time
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