Measure of My Maturity

I emailed my lovely wife. Then I reread what I had emailed her and rolled my eyes at how completely childish I can sound. And now I flaunt it in a self-depricating/bragging manner.

Classes were fine. Nothing exciting. Lunch was good. The candy is great. Though I feel really hungry still and in about ten minutes I'll probably feel gross because I just ate all the chocolate you gave me. I ate them all hunched in a corner, frequently looking over my shoulder for anyone who might creep up on me and try to take my precious. My PRECIOUS!!

I'll be home at six. Is there any way I could have some macaroni and cheese tonight? I mean the cheap powdered-cheese flavored kind? I know Mary has claim to it all, but tell her I'll pay her back for it. I'm itching for some. Maybe we could have some broccoli and carrots too? 

[undisclosed person in class] smelled like boiled hotdogs today. It was rather repulsive.

Love you.

Isn't there a statute somewhere that explicitly states that personal communication between spouses can be as immature as desired? I'm betting there is.