Happy anniversary to my beautiful wife.
Not a single day passes that I don't thank my lucky stars for you. I realize I say that every year. This year, I considered submitting us for the Dunmow Flitch Trials, but we'd have to travel to England, you're a vegetarian, and the website won't tell me whether they take same-sex couples. Possibly we should do it in 2016 anyway.
This year makes lucky thirteen. I realize I also say this every year, but it feels like forever and like no time at all. And anniversaries have the same continuity as other holidays, namely with themselves and not with other days, so they all come back: the first; the time everything was so ludicrously perfect with the scheduling that it was like years of scheduling karma all at once; the time we were on separate continents and are never doing that again. This one goes down as the time we both entirely forgot until the very last minute because the pattern goes Thanksgiving and then anniversary, but managed to do something special and meaningful for it anyway because we planned it accidentally like that go us. I'll take it.
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