Sunday, March 11, 2007

How do you know you've begged, pleaded, manipulated, blackmailed, Forrest Gumped lucked your way into the perfect derby wife for yourself?

When you can drive four hours to Atlanta, spend the ENTIRE day in Ikea and then drive four hours back and never ever run out of stuff to talk about.

When you can bond over pot racks and duvet covers and Swedish meatballs with lingonberry soda.

When you both know that when you see a round bed, someone has to get on the bed on all 4s and say "Raawwwrr"

When you see gay thugs shopping for dining room tables and laugh about how it gives new meaning to "Bone Thugs and Harmony"

When she helps you design your new kitchen, even though it's going to be 1000 miles away.

When you can spend five minutes in the middle of a furniture store doing your own episode of "Whose line is it anyway" using tiny wicker baskets as props.

When she leaves a half-full bag of dark chocolate mini eggs in your car.

When neither of you can stop giggling long enough to try to flirt or cry when the personality-deficient, over-cologned cop pulls you over just because you were going fifteen miles over the speed limit. (probably a good thing he didn't catch you when you were going 30 over... like you were for most of the trip back.)

This list may not be all-inclusive, but those are definitely good signs.