Today is Andrew and my 13th anniversary. He is my very favorite person in all the world. He's delightful.
Let's look at one example of his wonderfulness from yesterday:
After getting home from hanging out with his family for Father's Day, I decided I wanted to wind some yarn. Andrew used to be my human swift, but then he wised up and bought me a swift for some holiday. Clever.
I put the yarn on the swift and didn't have one of the loops correct. It is always a mistake to ignore this. I know this, and I ignored it anyway. Immediately, one end tangled. When I untangled it, it wrapped itself around the main bar of the swift.
After getting that unwound and tucked where it hopefully wouldn't get loose, I was able to wind about 75% of the yarn without further incident. Then all hell broke loose.
The end wrapped itself around the swift again. I eventually just took it off the swift and laid it on the floor.
I tried to wind the yarn again. The ball winder flew off the shelf.
The first time I roared like a lion in frustration, Andrew yelled from downstairs to see if I was all right.
Try again. Then the ball, which must have been too loose, flew off the winder.
Then it wrapped itself around the gears of the winder.
Another roar, and this time I leave the room and shut the door. I'll do it another day.
Except I can't leave it.* Ten minutes later, I'm back in the room. This time, I get it so wound around the workings of the ball winder that I can't untangle it.
I yell downstairs, "Andrew I need you." He trots upstairs, looks at me kindly and says, "I thought you were going to leave it for today."
"I know, but I can't."
He sits on the floor, gently untangling the yarn, and in three minutes the skein is wound.
I threaten the yarn, reminding it that I own scissors and I want no more sass out of it. Andrew asks if it's really a good idea to taunt yarn that is already clearly mischievous, and I simply yell loudly in the direction of the skein still on the ball winder, "You were only $11. If I have to, I will cut you."
And then we went downstairs.
Andrew not only does not have me committed for holding angry conversations with inanimate objects, but he also will spend time untangling my messes that would be easier to untangle if I could just leave them alone for awhile.
And we're not just talking about yarn.
Happy anniversary, Andrew! I love you. I am immeasurably grateful you're my partner for this ride.
*This explains a lot about me.