Nothing says “I love you” like being snowed in together for 10 days and living to tell the tale.
The first day of snow was magical. My husband and I smiled together over hot chocolate and marshmallows in the late morning and chatted lightly about how beautiful the fresh snow was as it cascaded through the crisp morning air and coated our cars with several inches of soft powder. We spent the day lounging in our pajamas, working sporadically from our laptops but generally goofing off in the true fashion of any snow-day. We had a couple of snowball fights and laughed as our 100 pound dog bounded through the fluffy drifts like a springy bunny rabbit. It was bliss. For a time.
The magic began to rub off around day three of the snowfall. Our neighborhood roads were almost impassable, and our employers were becoming less tolerant of our missing work. We were running low on hot chocolate (and by then we were low on wine as well) and our tolerance for each other was growing slim.
By day five, the aforementioned dog decided that the snow was too deep to trudge through in order to find a place to relieve himself, so he began wetting on the doorstep and then wanting immediately back in the house without wiping his soiled paws. It started to become more difficult to get so far as the mailbox, and although the grocery store is a mere four blocks from our house we weren’t able to get the cars out of the driveway and four blocks became too far to walk with snow a foot deep.
The morning of Day Seven should have ended with homicide, or divorce. I am amazed that we survived that day in-tact between arguments about who ate the last bowl of cereal, and how annoying it was to one of us when the other insisted on breathing. There was one close call that involved an ice-cream scoop and a toilet plunger of which I am sworn to secrecy except to say, “I am but a mere woman mortal, and my husband is the All Knowing god of Knowledge”.
As the two feet of snow and ice began to break up on day ten, we rejoiced and vowed to go separate directions and fought our way to our respective offices. The bliss of being at work, away from the house and away from my husband was almost too much to bear. The beautiful silence emanating through my workspace was broken by a familiar ring-tone. I picked up and heard my husband speak on the other end of the line, “I cannot tell you how nice it is to not be sitting next to you right now, not looking into your eyes or listening to the beating of your heart. I love you.” And I felt the exact same way.
Great story! Glad you made it out of the house finally, marriage intact. 
Wonderful story! Clearly, you know how to tell them
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