Andromeda is in the bathroom taking a shower.
She has just returned from 5 hours in the market—a mission that ended with only a lone pair of shoes. Women and their weird meter of accomplishment. I have ceased to try and understand them. Whenever I get confused I simply kiss them.
Thus far it has worked.
We are in a hotel for the next three days.
It has been 370 days since she said a firm “yes” to my stammered request that she be my girlfriend.
We are celebrating our anniversary this weekend. Or rather I am.
When I asked Andromeda what she would like to do for our anniversary she looked at me like I had asked her if Jesus might possibly have been a blinded 78 year old hunched back Asian, whose deformities were mistaken as Messianic in proportions.
According to her—women never plan anniversaries, they merely experience it. The job she says is completely mine.
“Surprise me” she announced.
The message has been received.
I am doing my best.
Thus far, everything seems to be going okay. She seemed delighted with the hotel that I picked. She walked out to the balcony which gave a nice overview to the city of Abuja and smiled. In her world that is a “Well done Carl. You’re doing great.”
There are two more days ahead of me.
Plenty of time for me to let her down. But at least for now, I have survived the first day.
She likes the room. She likes the view and she still likes the boyfriend. Friday is done.
We’ll just take one day at at a time.
And if things get really bad....well...there’s always kissing.
That always seems to work.