This is us four years ago. The autumn when my husband cashed in airline miles and booked a trip to visit friends in France without telling me, (which yes, is romantic, but also stress and argument inducing) and sold his blood–or plasma rather–to help pay for it. You might say we have a wee bit of a travel addiction, as proved by this picture. Taken in Italy because, I reasoned, if we’re going to be in Paris anyway, why wouldn’t we pounce on $80 roundtrip airfare to Verona? It would be a crime not to. Even if  Verona would only be ours for a mere 48 hours. Even if our…