What Love Looks Like

Warning: Please turn away or find the nearest waste basket if ooshy-gooshy love stuff makes you want to yak.

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Can I just tell you a little story about Mr. Ordinary? Yes? Thanks. Here goes:

Mr. Ordinary came home from work today to a little mess I like to call 'me'. I was wearing my super stained, never leave the house in it shirt. I hadn't showered since, well, I'm not really sure. My pits were on fire and I was full of sunshine and roses with all my "I'm tired" and "What a rough day" and "Please take the kids somewhere for five minutes."

I laid down on the bed while he changed out of his work clothes and he laid down next to me. Mr. O snuggled  up to me and said, "Do you know what I love about you? I was looking at some pictures the other day and I realized you have such pretty eyebrows and you never have to do whatever it is those other girls do to them, They're just perfect the way they are."

I whined some more about how the park we went to today to outrun some grumpy moods was so dirty and run-down and gross and we shouldn't have even gone.

And he moved my hair off my shoulders, kissed my neck and said, "And you know what else? I look at your face and you look so young but when I listen to you speak you are so responsible and mature."

I blushed and told him to stop it. Then I went on about what a hadnful Sunshine had been.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you all day," he said.

Then he got the kids ready, took them to the park with the dog and here I sit.

And I can't stop thinking about him.