If anyone was ever to ask me how I know my husband loves me, it wouldn't be because he puts up with me. Let's face it; there's a fair amount of that going on in both directions.
It wouldn't be because he's never teased me about my weight, and always refers to me as his 'cute little Paula', even though I weighed nearly a hundred and sixty pounds at one time (I'm five two).
It wouldn't be because he doesn't hound me about finishing the dining nook, even though I started it three years ago (I'm so close!).
No- it would be because he finally bought me a truck. A very nice truck.
It's a 2013 Ford F150 4X4 and has eight cylinders, which means that once we sell our car (because we're a committed one-car family), there will be a lot more walking to the store instead of driving, and fewer trips all around. Someday after we move to the country I'd like to convert it to wood gas, but that is a pipe dream for way down the road. In the interim, I need to learn how to drive like a grandma. Which is easy right now for me because this thing is huge! I grew up with trucks, and I'm very comfortable driving them, but I have to get used to the difference in size between the two vehicles so I'm taking it easy.
At any rate, we made a rational, conscious decision to do this, and now we can start looking for an acreage somewhere.
You know what else?
It has room for a dog or two!