Sparks

About a week ago, James and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary with a big meal, a bottle of wine, and a late show.  With the notable exception of our bulging bellies, it felt like any other night out together, and we both agreed that the third anniversary calls for less pomp than the second, and only a fraction of the first.  It's a good thing, don't you think, that we're not counting the days with tick marks on the wall, not treating every month survived together as a remarkable milestone?  But just because we've settled in for the long haul doesn't mean we're not enjoying ourselves.  Sure, our life together has become comfortable.  Sure, we've broken each other in.  But there is still laughter.  There are still sparks.  And in the words of our favorite psycho cheerleader, changing the routine now would be, like, total murder-suicide.  Seriously.