So, if I had my way, I probably wouldn’t post a single sentence on the
web not related to Africa. You may have noticed I talk about it a lot.
If you could read my thoughts, you’d know I think about it a lot more.
However, in leu of growing repetitive . . . After a talk with my profoundly wise older sister, I decided maybe just once I should write about what y’all are really thinking about me.
Hence the post title.
Once you turn 30, people start to sort of give up on trying to set you up. Instead, they go to the local mall and pick out your size in nun’s habit. And send you quotes that sound a lot like Hamlet’s, “Get thee to a nunnery!” Not that I’m complaining. You are completely welcome to send me any nun outfit you find. And I rather enjoyed reading Hamlet.
But my profoundly wise older sister and I did finally pinpoint the characteristics of the perfect husband. Just wait till you hear about him. You’ll be impressed.
He follows me everywhere I go.
He sits at my feet while I read a book on the couch.
He looks at me with big brown eyes that spell absolute a-d-o-r-a-t-i-o-n.
He’s so upset when I leave, he sleeps on the floor in the living room.
He never wants to drive my car or complains if I make him sit in the back. (This is written in fond memory of all the LIFE games we played growing up where I would always shove the little blue man in the farthest corner in the back of my little plastic car. Did anyone else do that?)
He’s always thrilled to see me, even if I just went outside to get the mail.
He’s disappointed if he doesn’t get to go on a walk with me every day.
He loves anything I give him to eat. Doesn’t matter if it’s burnt . . . fell on the floor . . . a week old.
Oh, and just in case you’re starting to get sort of freaked out by these rather specific details, he also looks like this:
