Dear Brent

You have a nervous habit of drumming your fingers on the closest and most available surface. It gives me my own, eye twitching anger twitch.

You gently suck/slurp the top layer of your hot coffee. It makes me want to scream.

You let the alarm clock go off, either until I kick you, or you hit snooze 8,643 times before you get up. What is UP with that???

You curl your upper lip oddly when you talk. You've been doing that since you were fifteen years old.

You type at a snail's pace. Although compared to my 115 words per minute, I suppose anything is snail pace. Still, it makes me want to elbow my way in and do it for you.

You draw up plans to make dozens and dozens of pieces of furniture and you rarely ever carry them out.

You spend money on things I think are stupid. You either buy them already broken, or when they do break, you never fix them.

You pay bills at an alarmingly slow rate, with paper and pencil and by-hand calculations. I have an Excel spreadsheet! With formulas! It's RIGHT THERE for you!!!

You watch the most boring television shows. Things on the History Channel and the Discovery Channel. I feel as if I can't handle another documentary on Hitler or The Universe.

You detest my adoration for the internet.

Your dance moves consist of basically just grinding on me and you look silly.

You wait way too long to shower after a long day on a construction site.

Attending your family functions mostly just drive me crazy.

I could probably keep on and on like this for forever. But here is the end-truth: I love you. I love that you wake up before 5 in the morning to work all day at a physically torturous job that you despise, just to provide for your family. I love that you spoil the crap out of us with things that I would feel guilty buying myself. I love that you are always cooking, that you produce gourmet meals when it appears as if there is nothing in the kitchen. I love that you always make me a late night snack. I love that you watch reality TV shows with me, even when you are wishing you could be watching your preferred program. I love your simplicity, your desire to just be happy with your family life. I love that you have aspirations and interests. I love that you love your relatives and want to spend time with them and want our children to know what it's like to exist in a big community of family. I love that you perservere through our crazy life on little sleep and practically non-existent time for yourself. And I love that you love me, even when I'm nagging and bitching and having an anxiety attack because you've hung the shirts on their hangers in the wrong direction. You deserve a medal, sir. A big fat one.

Love, Rae