Murphy's Law strikes again

It's hard to believe but this year is our fifth anniversary. (the gifts should be wood, people). This makes me look fondly back over our happy years together.
First anniversary - I am a terrified intern, on call, dealing with my first dying patient. We kiss when I get home at night and split a cake.
Second anniversary - Made plans to visit Philadelphia family, and realized that it was our anniversary on the plane. Called hubby, who forgot about it altogether.
Third anniversary - Working night float and not seeing the light of day. We exchange congratulations as he leaves for work, and I come home from work to sleep.
Fourth anniversary - On call in Brockton, the city of champions, depressed and crying, not about the anniversary, but about not being able to sleep in the sweltering heat of the callroom.
Fifth anniversary - I just realized that I'm on call. Even this year, my one true year off!
You win, Murphy, damn you to hell!
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