I have fibromyalsia. My particular brand of FMS makes me a little bit like the six-month old I quit my Duke University job to nanny for (because, quite honestly, I needed the naps). I like to have a two hour nap in the morning. Sometimes I like to also have a two hour nap in the afternoon, depending on the amount of sleep I got the night before. I also get real crabby if I'm hungry and, like a fifteen year old, getting me our of bed it a bitch. I cry about stuff that it's really not okay to cry about, like not having basil in the house.
Friday was our the second anniversary and when we met I was not sick and did not need naps and my fingers did not hurt and I did not cry because I hate ants and there are ants in the shower. No I did not. And despite the fact that the groovy girl drinking magnums of wine on his porch has turned into his weepy, sleepy, sore wife in two years, David hasn't batted an eye and makes breakfasts and lunches and cleans and really really likes me. Because he's the best.
Happy Anniversary, Self and David!
Reading on the couch with David at Christmas time, under my sisters Phi Mu blanket.