March 29th 1992
The evening was jejune at best. I started my plans of a very romantic evening with a bouquet of two dozen paper flowers. Maris has hay fever, you know. We laughed so hard when she pretended to smell them. The laughter we shared diminished when she received a paper cut on the tip of her nose.
I treated her to the opera Le Misèrables. Enjolras stifled while singing "Dawn of Anguish" in the second act to glare up at us in the balcony. Maris was completely horrified when I woke her to inform her that the entire production was at a stand-still because the cast has mistaken Maris' snoring for a noisy cell phone that no one would answer. Needless to say, we left so quickly, Maris wouldn't allow me time to retrieve our garments from the coat check.
I tried to salvage the evening by having the servants draw her a hot bubble bath to soak in while I prepared a wonderful dinner for the two of us… I blame myself for that one. I was so excited about preparing my Duck a l'Orange with Herbed Pommes Frites, that I had completely blocked out the fact that Maris' prunes easily in water. While mincing my garlic cloves and shallot, Maris was soaking her way into a deeper pruney depression.
I lit some unscented candles. Although she likes candle light, she has a sensitive allergy to any scented candles. The place was romantically lit with one candle for every year we had been together.
It would have been nice to pick out an aria to play in the background, but Maris wouldn't allow that. We don't converse at meal times. Maris likes silence while dining. She prefers to hear herself chew in order to prevent choking if anything should go a foul when eating.
Sometimes love is knowing each other's idiosyncrasies, no matter how many there may be.
The rest of the evening has to do with a lot of sobbing as the servants assisted me in de-pruning Maris' skin.