So today is our third wedding anniversary. It’s strange to think this is the last one we’ll celebrate without arranging for a babysitter. We’re not officially celebrating until Saturday, when Mr. Aggie is taking me somewhere in Dallas for the night. All I know is that I need to pack a swimsuit and fancy-schmancy outfit for dinner (He had to actually call the place to see if it’s ok for me to wear dress pants. Note to self: Google fancypants table settings after this.) Oh, and I know it’s seafood. He’s such a nice guy–he doesn’t really like seafood but Lenny doesn’t tolerate any other meat very well so he picked the place especially with that in mind. Swoon.
I, on the other hand, have nothing to offer him. It’s sadly reminiscent of our wedding, when I mentioned about three days before that I didn’t care about exchanging gifts. I assumed that he, as the guy, would be relieved since 1) he probably didn’t know that was customary and 2) if he did, he certainly hadn’t bought anything. I was surprised when he insisted on it, and thus found myself wandering the aisles of Bed, Bath, and Beyond the day before our wedding desperate for a gift. In the end, he presented me with a second wedding band, which we had planned to purchase at our one year anniversary, and I gave him a–wait for it–seat massager for his car. He still drives around with it in back of the Explorer, but I’ve never seen him use it.
With that in mind, I’m running to the store for a card and then to an undisclosed location for a gift that will (hopefully) be a significant improvement over the seat massager.