He pulls a Christmas tree out of the garage and sets it up for me even though we're moving in a week.
He makes a fire in the fireplace every night, even if he knows I'll just fall asleep or go upstairs 5 minutes later.
He lets me play Christmas music ALL THE TIME, even when he'd rather listen to the game...or his sports radio show...or anything else, really.
He LIKES for me to serenade him and dance to the scattered parts I know of Good King Wenceslas. Over and over.
He runs to my rescue as my shower turns icy cold, and then willingly holds his hands under the freezing water to check the temperature while I curse everything in sight.
After I emerge from the ice shower dripping wet and ANGRY OH MY HOW ANGRY he rummages around and somehow produces a space heater, turns the regular heater up to 80 degrees, and patiently listens to me plot my revenge against every living thing, including him.
He immediately jumps out of HIS shower to fix the fuses when they (of course) can't handle the space heater, REALLY LOUD music, and my hairdryer.
He makes coffee for me in the morning.
He makes rum and coke for me in the evening.
He pushes the bed RIGHT UP to the wall, even if it takes him several attempts to "really" get it there, are you sure it's ALL the way there, because I Have To Have It That Way.
He lets me bury his cell phone underneath a box and then hide the box behind a picture frame every night because I hate blinking lights when it's time to sleep, and I can't handle it, and oh, by the way, are you SURE the bed is already pushed up?
He laughs at, instead of hates, my Horribly Obsessive Compulsiveness.
He's kind to my friends.
He loves me.
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