I went home early on Tuesday from work after giving it a valiant effort. Around 3pm though, the combination of not sleeping the night before, the sensation that my eyes were going to burn out of their sockets, having the chills even though I was boiling, and still not being able to breathe properly through my nose proved to be too much. I crawled in bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
I was woken up at 6:30 by a figure appearing in the doorway of the bedroom, lit from behind by the hallway light. Because I’m me, my first thought was that it was a murderer coming to put me out of my misery, wielding a giant weapon. And then he came into focus, and it wasn’t a murderer at all, but rather Boyfriend, holding a large bouquet of hydrangeas. If that’s not the best medicine I don’t know what is.
He explained that he’d stopped on the way home and picked up my favorite flowers because I didn’t feel well. And because I’d taken care of him over the weekend when he was sick. And because he was leaving again Wednesday for yet another business trip. Multi-purpose blooms. Made even sweeter by the fact that he wasn’t there to kill me.
I tend not to go too personal, but this is one opportunity I will take to say that I am very, very lucky. I may complain a lot when he leaves me for India (twice in one year, ahem ahem), or just about everything in general (I know, it’s a cold, not the end of the world) but I’m lucky and happy and
probably definitely don’t say it enough.
And I’m sure the hydrangeas smell as pretty as they look, but I can’t tell.