That “slammed at work” line had been his favorite for months, by the way.
But whatever. He’s my husband, it’s his birthday, I say yes.
“Just tell me what you want,” I say. “I’ll put it together.”
From that moment, everything landed on my plate.
Venue.
DJ. Catering. Drinks.
Decor. Invites.
Every time I tried to involve him, I’d get the same thing.
“What do you think of this house?” I’d ask, showing him pictures.
“Looks great,” he’d say without really looking. “Book it.”
“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”
“Who absolutely has to be there?”
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