So it's 7pm.
We are leaving for America in 12 hours.
I am not only thankful I have such an amazing guy to come with me on an adventure which guarantees to rival a christmas season family feel good film probably starring diane keaton or susan sarandon who dying of cancer/having a baby/starts a food fight with some other vaguely related minion and then they all cry and hug it out.
But also because he understands (and somewhere deep down condones) my nazified OCD need to have a clean house before leaving . I have never seen a sexier man than one in his robe scrubbing the bathtub and hoovering, just because I asked.
I totally win.
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