Nine great years

It's my ninth anniversary. My cough is very bad and my throat is sore. It's not as sore as a couple years ago when I was so ill we got take out from the local grocery store for our anniversary, and I got a steak sandwich, which I could barely even swallow from the pain. I couldn't taste it at all. This is just one more lousy anniversary in a long string of them. I never cook dinner on my anniversary, but almost always things go poorly. Today I'm too ill too even care where we go; I just don't want to have to cook dinner myself. For my first anniversary, I was taking an organic chemistry class in the evening, and I wanted my husband to order a pizza from Dominos, a different place than we usually used, and to have it there around when I got home from class. Anyway, I got home and no pizza was there. I asked him why. He told me he tried, but when he called Domino's, they told him they didn't deliver to our neighborhood after 6 p.m. (yes, it was a bad area). I think we finally got pizza from the place we normally used.

Then next year we lived in the house we currently live in. I wanted to go somewhere nice. My husband refused to do that because his hair was desperately in need of a cut, and he refused to take his hat off. We had to go to IHOP so he could keep his hat on. The year after was the best anniversary dinner I've ever had. I was as pregnant as I am now (due April 17 instead of April 14), and we went to a steak place. I had a lovely salad, steak, and baked potato, and I had a lemonade. We had no kids so all was quiet.

Things have been downhill ever since. The worst one I can remember was a couple years ago when I bought a bottle of red wine (which we still have), and we were going to go to Applebee's carside take out thing. I called ahead and all was supposed be ready for pickup within five minutes of our arrival. After waiting (with complaining kids in car) for about half an hour with their being unable to get the food to the car, we finally left. My husband was so hungry, he said he had to eat right away. I don't know what their problem was and if people commonly have trouble getting the carside-to-go food as we did, but we'll never do it again. We stopped at Burger King on the way home, and I got a whopper. I concluded it didn't go with red zinfandel, so the bottle sits, unopened, until I come up with a reason to have some.

Anyway, I now have very low expectations for my anniversary. I can laugh at the disasters they often turn out to be. Much more important than the typically horrid anniversary dinners are the great nine years I've had married to my husband.

Right now the only one with an opinion of where we should eat for dinner tonight is my son. He wants to go to IHOP. I'd like to go somewhere different, but I can't taste well enough that it really matters, and I know IHOP has vinyl seats. The thing is, N's birthday is March 22, and we could go to IHOP then for his birthday if he wants. In theory, I'd like to go to a Mexican place, but I am the only one who likes Mexican food, and I can't taste very well right now anyway.