Kablam!

Be careful what you ask for, right?  

Well, I wanted time off work to spend with spaceman... wrote about that in the morning, and then an hour or two after lunch I became nauseatingly ill.  After using the restroom to no relief, I sat back down at my desk with my head in my hands, rubbing my face and forehead.  After resting that way a while longer, I looked back at my computer to continue investigating some code versioning differences.  But I could not think straight.  My gut was sending my mind and emotions in loops.  Green, I walked in my bosses office, told him I was going to be sick and asked if I could go home.  He said yes, and home through the not-yet-rush hour traffic, thirty minutes north.  Driving the highway while nauseous is not recommended, but I managed to make it home without pulling over.

I wanted to be home spending time with spaceman, but yeah, not quite in this way!

I pulled around the corner to my street and could see him running the weed-whacker around the driveway.  Bump-bump, bump-bump the tires hit the curb as I pulled in and shut the car off.  Laden with my laptop backpack, purse and keys, I turned to him and said "I'm not feeling well."  And as if he might not have heard me, "I'm sick".  Continuing on into the house, I pulled off my work clothes, threw on a big shirt and climbed into bed. 

With a pillow over my eyes partially blocking my view, I saw him walk into the room and stand beside my bed to better greet me.  I don't think he heard what I had said out front and came in to inquire.

After asking me what he could do (there really was nothing), he crawled in bed with me and reached for my hand and held it for a while.  I rested as best I could.  And he fell asleep.  (of course lol)  I would find out later that he had a massive headache about the time I had driven up.  Our individual well-beings seem to be synced somehow.

It's been noticed by both of us at one time or another.  Either he or I will be telling the other how we've been feeling and the one listening will feel as if the one talking could be describing one's own feelings.  Still, we could never just reach out and take the other's hand when we lived 3 states away.  Conversations through technology just cannot take the place of good old-fashioned touch.  But now... we are four days into the beginning of our new life living together.

After some rest my nausea finally dissipated, the gastrointestinal stress finally moved into the less bothersome intestines.  We laid there as he told me some of the things he had done in the yard since I left for work this morning.  Not only did he mow, he trimmed the yard, pulled weeds, picked up and swept the deck, and that doesn't even count what he did to the front yard where I had found him edging the driveway.  I had tunnel vision when I was heading into the house, and I haven't yet been out there to look.  The landscaping has been a mess and I suspect he made a dent in that as well.

Now, when I tell people he's been spending all his time taking care of his aging parents, this is the sort of thing he's been doing, and way more.

And yesterday when I came home from work, dinner was done, table set.  Everything was something I can eat, with regard to my grain intolerances.

[pause, bedroom door is opening...]

And that was just him.  He had been off to the store and back for an ingredient and was "piddling around the house" as he called it.  He cracked open our bedroom door to see if I was awake... and what wafts in???  Garlic spaghetti aromas... mmmm.  And mine will be made with spaghetti squash since I can't eat pasta (gluten-free or not).

I swear!  If this is a dream please DO NOT wake me!  I have never been this spoiled and I just want to enjoy this for a while. :) :) :)

Which brings me back to what prompted me to open the laptop and write... enjoyment....  I was laying here in bed, having drifted to near sleep with a book partially open in my hand.  The windows are wide open and the birds are chirping too numerous to count.  Off in the distance the consistent muffled roar of the highway is only heard if I remember to listen for it.  But what woke me was the gentlest breeze, one that would gracefully billow the sheer curtains, if I had them.  It rushed past my face and sent me reminiscing about days like this.  You know, the ones that never seem to come often enough, so rare, that it takes the next one happening before the last one comes to mind again.  It's been 18 years, my previous somewhat comparable moment.  But nothing is quite like this one, and I cannot imagine a better one, sick or not sick.