“There are only two tragedies in life:
one is not getting what one wants,
and the other is getting it.”
- Oscar Wilde

 

Today is my FAVORITE kind of weather.  I like being cold.  I like it, because eventually, you get to stop being cold and getting warm is the best feeling ever.  Cuddling, getting near a heater, a warm sip of coffee.. all of that is spectacular.  There is just nothing better than coming in from a blustery, cold day and getting into a warm bath.  I really lucked out in Louisiana at my apartment; my 1970s building still had heaters over the bathing area.  While you were bathing, you turned that sucker on, and it warmed the air AND your towel.  Very nice.  Especially in Louisiana, where the air gets moist and cold, and that gets down to your bones.

Bryan left this morning.  I was sad to see him go, but kind of excited because I can stretch out in the bed.  I’m sure he will have a lovely time and will have lots of great stories to tell.  I, in the meantime, am planning on drinking heavily tonight and sitting around some boiling oil with the Coven.

We had a very low-key evening last night, with basketball practice and a trip to Costco.  We dined in the Costco cafe, which is my favorite because I love their hot dogs (they are the only hot dogs I will eat), and you can get a giant hot dog and a coke for $1.50.  So we can both eat and be full for under $4.  It’s awesome.  I thought about Steph and Ra the entire time, since we all share the Costco addiction (although Steph is the champion), and Steph must’ve felt that I was there without her, cause she called later that night.

I took Shannon’s advice and downed three Midol Maximum Strength before bed.  I also took two ibuprofen AND some Tylenol Cold nighttime.  Needless to say, I slept like a log and actually feel very human today.  As I sat up in bed, waiting for the medicine to kick in so I could breathe, Bryan rubbed my back and asked, as he always does, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I nodded.  “Yes.”  Then I took that preparatory breath, so he knows that I’ve thought about this long and hard and this is a serious statement I’m about to make.  “If our marriage ever gets rocky and hard, you can promise me that you won’t parade around town with some younger-than-me floozie.  Can you do that for me?”  And I looked at him, in that way that says I am totally PMSing and this has no bearing on you or your actions, but I need you to placate me.

“I can do that for you,” he said, quietly.  “You’re my pretty young thing.”

I considered debating that, but my nose started running.  So I thought the irony was too delicious to ignore.  “I won’t always be gorgeous,” I said, while blowing my nose loudly.  And as I emptied my head to the point of needing a second tissue, I said, “This is a brief and shining period in my life.  I’ll get ugly.  And old.”

He nodded, teetering on this thin ice that my menstrual cycle had put him on.  “Perhaps,” he said.  “But you’ll always be younger than me.”

The man has a point.