I have come to a conclusion: The Darling Husband is hot.
And before you start rolling your eyes and snickering he really is. Let me explain a little better.
Earlier this week, after a rather physically strenuous job, the man dragged himself home later than normal. He had dinner and then, while I put the Boy to bed, he took a shower.
After I'd kissed a hundred teddies and hugged the Boy 10 times and finally switched the light off, I walked through to the bedroom to find Hubby sprawled out on the bed. His light was almost out too.
So, as a good wife, I made him a cuppa tea and left him to an early night.
I still had a little work to do and maybe some tv to catch up on. Upstairs, on my own, it was quiet. The tv was off while I worked, but I worked quickly as the prospect of the remote all to myself was appealing.
OK, work done, couch beckons. The cat sits quietly waiting in the corner for me to sit down before she makes her move to claim my lap.
I flick through the channels and remarkably nothing worth while is on. Something is missing. The room is cold. And I'm lonely.
If The Husband was up here with me, like he usually is, I'd sit a while longer. But he's not.
I realize he warms the room for me, he am comfortable when I'm with him, and I want to be with him in that room, any room that he is in. Even if we sit, as we often do, with him in the study and me in the lounge within glancing distance of each other, absorbed in our own thoughts, he makes me feel safe and at ease. And not so alone.
And I'm so grateful and thankful and blessed to have such a special humble man in my life.
And yes, I think I have been listening to too many country songs today.
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