There hasn’t been that many times in my life when I have taken a step back and thought about how lucky I actually am.
I recently moved into a new home, and required a trip to Ikea to kit it out with essentials. Mr W, bless him, offered to drive me, and hesitantly I accepted, knowing that men do not like Ikea. My parents, for example, did not speak to each other for 3 days after one doomed trip to the homewares superstore.
ppily followed me around for 2 hours without complaint. That’s right, without a single complaint, shoulder shrug or exasperated sigh. In fact, he was actually enthusiastic about the display kitchen cabinets, bathroom storage and bedding. It was only when we got to the marketplace that his enthusiasm started to wane.
And so, I quickly wrapped up my purchases and got out of there, with a happy boyfriend, and a wardrobe full of coathangers. I am, in fact, a very lucky girl.
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