Last Friday didn’t start off very well. My sinuses were driving me up the wall all morning, my right eye wouldn’t stop twitching, and I inadvertently dressed my kid like Freddy Krueger (when I handed him his new shirt that morning he even said “mom, this shirt is scary” and he has no context), but at least it was Friday. And the day improved. That afternoon I was ordered to stop working early for a work-sanctioned kegger, and I was even allowed to bring the little man. Umm, yeah, so I took the little man to his first kegger. But I brought along root beer. And that night Zophia and went to see Serenity (joined by These Old Boots and Cleopatra’s Kitten). I am so glad I steered clear of the fan sites and the reviews and remained completely unspoiled. It made what Joss had to do hurt sooooooo good.
Then Saturday was bright and sunny and all smiles. I felt good and whole and productive for the first time in ages. I took the little man out to run errands. To the bank, and to take the car in for a very overdue oil change. The husband had a contractor stop by to look at the roof while we were out. And the man delivered some unexpected good news. The roof doesn’t need to be replaced. Not for a few years anyhow. Just needs to be repaired in one spot. We celebrated by taking the little man to play at a favorite playground, in the unseasonably warm weather, and afterwards in to have his hairs cut. And after that we swung by the co-op for a few things and back at home the husband baked a couple of loaves of zucchini bread. Later on it was his turn to go out, for some guy time, and he picked up the new Neil Gaiman book for me while he was out, thus topping off what was already an all-around very fine sort of day.
But Sunday. Sunday wasn’t quite so fine, though I’d so hoped it would be. I had trouble getting out of bed. The migraine started messing with my head again, as soon as I’d woken up. At one point I said to myself, “self, screw this. Get up.” So I got up. And stumbled a few paces. And lurched into the bathroom. And started throwing up before I could even shut the door (I think the husband hates the sound of me puking even more than the sound of the cats puking). And that’s how much of the day went. With me too weak and ill to do much of anything. But the husband saved the day, sort of, with an idea that came out of left field. With the money we’re not spending on a new roof, he suggested buying a new dining room set. This was a little too Twilight Zone, coming from the man who wears his clothing until it disintegrates, and eats nearly every meal at his computer desk. But he was buying (yes, we’re married, but no, we don’t have joint bank accounts). So I managed to get myself cleaned up and into the car for a little journey to Design Within Reach. And sometime within the next two weeks we will be able to dispose of our rickety-ass dining room set, the one that came with the house, the one with the chairs with the filthy, grimy upholstery. And we’ll be able to have a dinner party while eating on furniture we’re not embarrassed of. Now what to do about the rest of the furniture in the house…
