Know what is supremely nice?

To be away from home for a couple of days, come back more than a little tired and stressed out because in your absence, anti-feminist trolls decided it would be a good time to make a mess of your message boards, something you discovered at midnight the night before; to have to spend all day when you got back cramming 30 hours of cleanup into six because at a young adult board, mob mentality always makes any acrimonious dynamic even worse, and to finish by crying your eyes out with a close friend whose relationship busted up in a really harsh and painful way, all while you have yet another early period (with The Bad Ovary™, no less: though I suspect it’s really the bad tube, but whatever) because there was no way you weren’t going to cycle-sync with a house with four women in it.

That’s not the nice part.

The nice part is to have your day finish with your partner coming home and giving you the biggest hugs ever, listening to your venting, setting a lovely table and making you a glorious meal (despite the fact that you’re eating it in your smelly pajamas post-Vicodin-induced haze), sharing a few sips of their whiskey and snuggling you into a cozy stupor on the couch until you fell asleep.

It’s not as if I forget it often — I really don’t — but now and then, I just have to say, yet again, that there are areas in my life in which I’ve got it mighty, mighty good.

Addendum: Topping all that off with the surprise gift of sending a tuner over so that I can play my piano? Nice touch, Mr. Price.

Addendum 2: Topping all THAT off with two nights in a row that resulted in several very tasty orgasms for me? Boy hit this week right outta the park.

filed under Heather Corinna | Mr. Price | home | my fine romance
posted on Thursday, December 14th, 2006 at 10:01 am

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