I open the door and sitting on the kitchen table is a card and present from my husband. The envelope has this on it:
Anyway, here's the card itself:
And here's part of what Brad wrote on the inside of the card:
(The rest was so x-rated that it could not be posted on a family blog. Ha, ha. Just kidding mom, mother-in-law, and Sarah Palin.)
Now, let me just say that he's been working on basement-related salvage activities before and after going to the office every day. In addition, most of the time he caters to my every whim when it comes to dinner (e.g. I must-have-beef-with-broccoli now). Yet somehow, when I come home, *I* get a card and a present?!