My Guy

Y'all should slap me, next time I dis The Jesus of Cheese.

He's a great guy. And I'm not just talkin' about the sex. Or how he makes me laugh. Or the *ahem* quality of life he provides...

Today's example: I was making the bed this morning and actually changing the sheets and such, and started thinking that we needed new queen-size pillows, being that the ones we have might be a decade old. Then I started thinking that we needed a new comfy blanket.

We've got a comfy blanket, but it's rather worn. It started out as a quilt my mom made for us, but mom doesn't always pay much attention to quality control, so it disintegrated within months.

I took it apart and used the quilt top (that's the patterned top that's designed and stitched together) with a new batting (the warm stuff in the middle), and as the bottom, I used one of my top sheets. One of my 400 count Egyptian cotton top sheets.

So it was WAY comfy.

Then a dog chewed apart one of the corners. That's another story.

Anyway, we've used this blanket for several years. It gets washed quite often. It's barely hanging on, this blanket.

And today, for the first time, I really realized we needed to replace the damn thing. And (stupid me) I started thinking I was going to MAKE one.

It's a family habit. You don't buy blankets. You make them.

Once the sheet changing task was over, I forgot about it.

Until The Jesus of Cheese walked in this evening and presented me with a comfy blanket that he just bought (why didn't I think of that?) at Target.

"I was going to buy some Henry Wadsworth Longpillows , but they didn't have any, so I got you this," he said.

HOW? How the fuck did he know??? Okay, maybe since we share a bed (and blanket and pillows) he knows what's old and needs replacing, but how did he know on the day that I finally decided to take care of it, that he would? Take care of it, I mean?

He was at the office by the time I was doin' the domestic crap. That's not how he knew.

He just read my brain.

How cool.