Last year, Mr. Squishy’s average Friday night was spent out on the town, pounding Jager with the boys and getting down and dirty with the ladies. This year, it was more like doing laundry and watching CSI reruns with his pookiemuffin. It was only when he stopped to think, “Dear God, I’m ironing my honey bunny’s frilly blouses,” that he realized how much his life had truly changed. And, though he hated to admit it, how much he liked it.
Domestic Bliss29 01 2010