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The other night, one of my friends shared this sentimental post:


A little extreme, but sweet. Since she dedicated it to her husband, I reposted it and dedicated it to my husband. Why the hell not? Parker saw it later.

Parker: This is intense. I mean, I don’t think “missing you” is either of our hobbies. That’s a really lame hobby.

Me: Yeah, I guess you’re right. I thought it was romantic though.

Later in the evening, Parker went into the kitchen to heat up a baked potato.

Me: While you’re in there, can you throw me together a salad?

My family has this tradition where when we need something and we’re tired or sick (or just savoring the act of sitting), we wait until someone else gets up and then ask them to get us something. While I’m aware that other people do this too, my family is particularly bad about abusing this power of laziness. My great uncle used to wait until my grandma actually sat down on the couch before he’d say, “By the way, while you’re up…”

Parker: “Throw you together a salad?” Okay.

I expected him to toss some spinach and carrots into a bowl and dollop on some dressing and slide it across the counter to me on the couch. Then I hear him chopping something.

Me: What are you doing?
Parker: I’m throwing you together a salad.

By the time he was done, it looked like I went to Sweet Tomatoes. There were chopped up pieces of celery, chopped up carrots, sunflower seeds, and dressing on top of my spinach.

Me: You didn’t have to do all this.

Parker: The longer you spend in the other room, the more elaborate this is going to be.

Me: Guess you’re not going to bed tonight. I didn’t intend for you to put all this effort into it.

Parker: I know, but you seemed disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm for the picture and my critique of the “missing you” hobby.

I think what he’s trying to say is that he puts more work into our relationship than merely missing me when I’m gone. Which is much more rewarding when you think about it.