Will You Marry Me?

“What are you doing?” she asks, after being ignored for the past ten minutes.

“Doing up a photo,” I say.

“Of Arsene?” (Arsene’s my cat.)

“Nope, I’m just doing up a photo.”

And she leaves it at that, letting me be for what seems like five minutes. Then she hears the clickety-click of the keyboard.

“Aren’t you doing up a photo? Why are there typing sounds?” she asks.

“I’m writing something, why?” I reply.

“Oh, nothing.” She says, and returns to watching her show, oblivious to the fact that I’m writing this post in preparation for my proposal tomorrow… will she marry me?

**********

When this post goes live, it will be about two more hours before I pop the question. At that time, we’ll be on the cable car, on our way to Sentosa — and she’ll have no where to run, and no where to hide; and what’s more, she’s afraid of heights — dare she say no?! Ha!

I love you ger ger.

(Bonus picture: look at how oblivious she is to what I’m doing. She looks delightful while she’s watching TV doesn’t she?)