Yes, he's my husband. No, he's not for sale. And yes, you may have guessed it... he's not on fire, nor does he put out fires, or start fires, or play with fires, he doesn't even... oh wait... my mistake. He does put out fires. Well, sort of. In fact, I think I hear him yelling out, calling me right now. I must have left something on the stove. I do that on occasion. Trying to cook him a good meal, and write, like I'm doing now. So, hang on. I'll be right back.
Okay. I'm back. Turned out I hadn't left anything on the stove. Woo! Wiping sweat off my brow now. Checked all the pilots, and they were out cold, and inside the oven was ice cold too. That was him, just opening one of my bills. Oh Lord. I guess I better go on and admit it now.
As I'm thinking back, after he married me, he has been putting out quite a few fires on account of me. Sparing the details, as I'm most ashamed to admit this, why I nearly forgot about it, but yes he did...
...had to leave work, early, and this is a man who took work seriously, so to leave work early, to drive I don't know exactly how many miles because I locked myself out of the car, took a lot out of him. Stranded I was. And of course stranded in a place I... sssh... wasn't supposed to be. And guess what? Happened again. Only this time it was the car battery. Brand new vehicle. A luxury vehicle. And that dang battery went flat dead on me. But there he was, having to leave work, his co-workers teasing him, about me, of course again being where I wasn't supposed to be. Next time. And this time he's with me, thank God! But I want to drive, and we're driving in a snowstorm, on a highway, with hundreds of other motorists, when this panic attack hits me. So I stop, as he telling me to pull over to the shoulder of the road. But I can't. I'm too darn scared. My foot wouldn't move. It stayed stuck to the brake. Mashed to the floorboard. And my hands were stuck to the steering wheel too. And yes, again he did. He got out and rescued me.
So, it hasn't been just the bills I forgot to mention coming in. Or the extraneous excursions where my vehicle decided to tell on me. Or the meals I burn up leaving him to attend to the smoke and flames as I tell him I'm trying to go all Cajun. It's a long list of things... and here I nearly forgot how the main man in my life has always been there for me. But please do not take any of this the wrong way, and think that I misuse him. He probably could and would say as much about me, and the ways I've rescued him too. It's just that this isn't about me, but about him, and how much I truly do love and appreciate my other better rescuing half.