My husband totally rocks.  This is of course for all the typical awesome-guy reasons: cute, funny smart, blah, blah, blah, but the most important reason has to be that he puts up with all the crazy. that I spew on a daily basis.
And Lord knows I spew a lot of crazy.

Exhibit A: He is willing to tolerate regularly careening off the bed, limbs flailing, as I scream bloody-bloody because a smurf has eaten my all pancakes- or whatever bizarre scenario my weekly nightmares present me with. 
Exhibit B: He is willing to spend a cold Sunday in the rain raking leaves, because I have suddenly decided that my entire self esteem rides on me actually finishing a chore for once in my life; THIS chore, right here, right now.
Exhibit C: When I decide on a whim that I am a totally awesome gamer chick, he will look on encouragingly despite the fact I have the hand-eye coordination of a heavily drugged four-year-old.  Then, when ten minutes later hurl the controller across the room, and run to my bed and cry, he will not make-fun of me as any reasonable person will do, but will instead make me a cup of tea and rub my back and assure me that throwing the controller is half the fun of being a super sexy gamer chick.

 My husband ROCKS.