My birthday.
I wanted to post on my birthday eve to share that Peter has been torturing me all weekend.
Friday: "Well, you can open your present today, buuuuuuut then you won't have aaaaaaaaaaaaanything to open on Monday..."
Saturday: "No, you can't come over because I'm wrapping your birthday presents. Well, you CAN come over if you WANT, but then you won't have aaaaaaaaaaaaanything for your birthday on Monday..."
Sunday: "I have your birthday present from my parents, but sorry, you can't open it until Monday. But you should open the card now, because it's funny."
When we were driving back up to Green Bay from Lake Geneva this afternoon, there were three very large presents wrapped in pretty pink paper that I couldn't touch or open. When Peter dropped me off at my apartment, he took my presents with him back to HIS apartment.
Isn't he MEAN??
Just kidding, Peter, you're the nicest boyfriend in the world.
But you've been torturing me since February, and you've been playing up my birthday for months. I hope I'm not disappointed...
Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Only about 21 hours and 51 minutes or something until I get to open my birthday presents.
Not that I've been counting or anything.
I would be reallllllllly happy if this was my birthday present:
Buuuuuuuuuut I'm not holding my breath because the box wasn't THAT big...
I know what he got you. But if I tell you then you won't have any surprise to open when it is your birthday.
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