I’ve spent the past few days layered in tracksuit bottoms and wrapped in blankets, mainlining herbal tea and being completely uninterested in baked goods. Yesterday I suddenly felt that muffins were missing from my life and this morning I actually took an interest in what I was wearing – I’m better! I have the zeal of the newly converted: everything is wonderful, even the feckin’ snow and the two-hour-delay AGAIN and the massive mess of my house; because I am whole once again. I was certain I was dying of consumption or ebola (thanks Ciara) or possibly a relapse of Lyme disease even though I took all the antibiotics last autumn, but it turns out it was just a virus and lo, my health is returned to me and I am victorious and also somewhat sheepish about having been, as usual, such a melodramatic hypochondriac.
Saturday was Valentine’s day, and the children gave us many cards, after an unforeseen uptick in crafting, cutting, glueing, drawing, and generally spreading paper around the house. I had to quickly throw together a card for Mabel, who was feeling hard done by that she’d made all these cards for other people but nobody had done one for her, so I made a quick one for B too, who had bought a lovely loaf of apple cinnamon bread on his way home from his run that morning, so everyone was happy and that was the extent of our marital celebrations of the auspicious date. We’re such diehard romantics, dontcha know.
Mabel gave me a note that said “You look as good as cookies smell”, which was just the loveliest sentiment. I was delighted. Then she gave me this, saying “You used to go to church so I thought you’d like one.” I was lost for words.
Because, as a friend said, nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like Jeesis on a cross.