Nine years ago we stood in a sunbeam on the roof of an Irish pub and agreed to love and support each other through the good stuff, the rough stuff, and the in-between stuff. Nine years ago we had no idea the highs could be so high, or the lows could be so low, or the in-betweenies could be so perfectly mundane.
There's no one I would rather sip icy gin and tonics with. There is no one I'd rather have backing me as we tackle Mount Laundry and negotiate with Tiny Dictators and dream big dreams and figure out thyroid bullshit and finally, for the love of tacos, clean the clutter off the mothercussin' kitchen counters once and for all.
I love you but I also really like you. Thank you for nine beautiful years. Here's to many more.