Here's the thing: He drives me nuts sometimes, but my husband is a true romantic at heart. You don't have to dig deep to find it, either.

Tonight he came home from work wearing a sheepish grin, one hand behind his back. "I got the stuff you wanted from the grocery store," he said, "but I got you a treat, too." With that, he produced a rose. A perfect single rose, yellow with deep blush pink on the edges of the petals; my favourite colour.

When I asked him why (other than the fact that he loves me- he tells me that several times a day) he told me that he had a dream about me last night, a dream that we were almost-but-not-quite dating. It brought back to him all those feelings you have at that stage: the fluttery heart, the butterflies in the stomach, the elation when you see your new-found love coming toward you. I wasn't home when he got up and went to work, but he said he'd been thinking about me all day.

Everybody together, now: AAAAWWWWWWW!

Yeah, he's a sweetie. I think I'll keep him. Even if he still doesn't do the dishes...