Day 248.

Dear New Husband,

Pretty sure this was not how I imagined our evening together would go. But then. Oh then. I came home only to be slapped in the face with what I can now describe as: 'The death of an animal that has been held captive in a baby diaper full of Indian food.'

You have been incredibly kind by moving the stove and the fridge for us [Rather, you actually! You have been so diligent in cleaning!] to clean behind them. We have deep cleaned almost everything possible, including the garbage disposal and still our kitchen smells rotten.

So here's hoping there isn't a dead Mickey [This is the name I'm giving to the potential dead mouse that may have laid himself to rest in one of our walls] and that this last ditch attempt to clean the dishwasher proves to be fruitful.

Otherwise, you should probably buy me about 28 candles for Christmas. Preferably my favorite ones from Anthropologie. 

Thanks for taking on projects, like discovering what is secreting a horrible smell, for being so diligent in the small things and being incredibly handy with fridges, stoves and dishwashers.

I love you,

Your New Wife.