Dear Future Husband,
For the past five years, I have been eating off chipped, hand-me-down, circa 1980 plates and bowl (yes, I literally mean ONE bowl.) I was patiently waiting to register for everyday china once we got engaged, but you’re taking too long. In fact, you’re currently non-existent. Therefore, in lieu of wearing kitchen mitts every time I handle said razor-jagged-chipped china, I took the plunge. Without you.
PS. I hope you like square plates, the color teal and birds.