I love my husband; I really do.

For one, I came home from work on Wednesday to a house filled with the glorious smell of a home cooked meal. He had spent two hours in the kitchen making a delicious dinner consisting of chicken and mole enchiladas, refried black beans, and guacamole – all from scratch. Freaking awesome, people, freaking awesome.

Then! He took it upon himself to learn how to tile the bathroom floor and started on it yesterday, working for nearly twelve hours straight. Granted, this means a pregnant woman is without a toilet for a few days, but the end result will be totally worth it. Luckily our neighbor friend is out of town and gave us her key so we can use her bathroom to our heart’s (or bladder in this case) content. The only thing is, I wasn’t willing to walk three houses down at 2:30 this morning, so I squatted. Lovely. She gets back on Saturday but I don’t think Huz will be done until Sunday, so that may be a bit awkward calling her up every time I have to pee (embarrassing too), but oh well. When the pregnant bladder beckons, you must answer.

Anyway. I love you Huz. Thank you for being such a great guy!

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