Eight

As of today, Mike and I have been together for eight years.  That's two away from a decade, and amounts of one third of my life so far.  Pretty nuts.  Eight November 18th's have now come and gone and I still think celebrating anniversaries is dumb unless you're married.  I mean really, to commemorate the awkwardness of a high school conversation a la Zach Morris and Kelly Kapowski?  Dumb.  ("Wanna go steady" was not, thankfully, the exact wording that was used.) What's certainly not dumb is everything that has happened since.  Or that in this eighth year we'll be getting married.  I still couldn't care less about the date or the anniversary, but eight is going to be a pretty awesome number.