The last few years, by this time, I've had quite a few zinnias popping up in my front flower bed where I transplanted them a few years ago. They reseed themselves so I don't even have to worry about spreading more seeds each year.
This year, I have one.
One.
From half a flower bed full of zinnias to ... one.
And it's breaking my heart a bit. But it's my own fault.

In our relationship, my husband and I get along fairly well, but that doesn't mean we aren't complete opposites in the way we do certain things. For instance, I love being around people. He does not. I love watching old musicals. He tolerates them. I love being outside. He can handle it a little while, but don't ask him to camp. And it's okay. Because we balance each other out.
But we're different in other ways too. Like, I am a planner and he is not. I love to know weeks in advance what we're doing when, how much things cost, when they open, what might be on the way from here to there that we could add to our trip, etc. He is more of a wing-it man.
I said, "Do you want to take a trip, just the two of us, for our anniversary?"
He replied, "Sure."
"Where would you like to go?"
​And he shrugged.

This has been a year of adjustments. In more ways than one.
From mid-January on, I've been going to the chiropractor. I'm finally back down to every other week, but it was much needed because I had somehow done a number on my back. And while it's frustrating to know I needed someone to put my ribs back in place every week or so, it's nice to be able to go in and get that adjustment so I can continue to live with less pain.
As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, my husband and I replaced our mattress. We'd had our old one for ten years, so it was definitely needing it. At least, my hips were needing to not have a spring digging into them.