MiM and WWNP’s posts inspired me to do this one. No, I wasn’t tagged by them. I gate-crashed a blogosphere tagging party.
Let me start by saying that Hubby dear is a very low key guy. He doesn’t believe in tooting his horn, boasting his feats and screaming for well-deserved accolades. These things don’t matter to me, he says. So the five things I mention here are few things he has done for me unexpectedly and repeatedly (barring 4 & 5) that seals my faith in him.
1. He does everything behind the scenes. Doesn’t like the spotlight, is only in the forefront when he thinks he needs to be. You give him something, he will get it done. Reliability is his second name, his virtue and he has never disappointed me or anyone else for that matter. So imagine how things get done in the Bora household. You name it and voila! it’s done. I have yet to come across someone so immensely dependable. And this is not my bias talking.
2. With age creeping up slowly and sneakily, I am prone to a lot of pain nowadays, especially in my back. Hubby dear is always there massaging them goddamn aches. His firm hands slowly easing those knots away making me calm and less cranky.
3. He is quick to take on the role of a cook whenever I don’t feel like it, which is often. And it doesn’t stop at preparing meals. He will take charge of everything else from feeding the kids to cleaning dishes to putting the kids to bed. He is my reprieve after a long, lousy, tiring day.
4. I struggle with my weight. 340 out of 365 days. I make lofty plans of losing weight and one such plan was to join a local gym (yep, lofty for me!). It didn’t work out for whatever reason but my complaining didn’t stop either. So on one of my previous birthdays, I find myself looking at a hi-tech, fancy treadmill in our basement, tied up in a big red bow, all too inviting, just waiting for me to jump on and get kickin. You can’t go to the gym, so I brought it to the house, well a part of it, just for you, said my considerate hubby.
5. I was on my way to India last fall with little A in tow. We had to catch a flight from DC to Newark to board the non-stop flight to Delhi. At Dulles, we were unapologetically informed that the flight got cancelled and the two possible ways one can make their next flight are to either take the train from Penn Station to NJ which is good 4-5 hours long or drive equidistance. Hubby dear had an unusually busy day at work and was planning on dropping me off and rushing back to office for a director’s meet. Despite my insistence on taking the train, he packed A and me back into the car, along with the travel baggage and drove us all the way to NJ and got us there in time to catch our international flight. Never mind that all of this sprung on him unexpectedly and he got home only past midnight after being on the road for straight 10 hours. He wanted to make sure his wife and child are safe and on the plane that flies them to India.
Well, that’s it. I know I can write a few more but I better stop as this is making me all mushy and gushy. And I should take that stupid smile off my face before people start wondering what’s up with me.