Yesterday was a perfect day.
The repairguys who came to fix the water heater and get our gas turned back on were marginally late; but had called to let me know that, and when they showed up they were quirky and weird, but polite, competent, and very very nice to boot. Not only that, they charged us no more than the first guy who did the damage AND got our water-heating shut off tried to in the first place.
It did take most of the day, though, and as a result I spent the entire day at home, puttering. I puttered and finished those speaker shelves (stained ebony two coats, and assembled � la my own invention), and carefully baked the BEST pie ever -- I've never had a home baked fruit pie before, and never a peach pie before at all, and it was DIVINE. (divine enough that I might skip this diet thing this morning and have some for breakfast...)
Then I made the best uber-balanced (it had reds, greens, whites, starches and legumes all represented) vegetarian dinner ever ("Black Bean Chilaquile", I'll be typing up the recipe anon so if anyone wants it you're welcome to it).
Somewhere in between those I had the most satisfying bath ever (after a showerless day, it was DIVINITY all over again), read two entire chapters of a book by my favourite SF author, knitted another 16-row section of the celtic (well, "saxon" actually) knot I'm working on, and had good thoughts about countless things.
THEN, the Best Husband Ever came home early (!!!), hugged me over and over, dropped me off to pickup my shiny new car where the overly charming portugese owner tickled me pink by calling me "my love" repeatedly in thickly accented english, and then he proceeded to go help out a friend of ours (always an important item on any list) while I managed an entire roster of errands: dry-cleaning, post, dropping off videos, and even managed to have a delightful moment with the very polish butcher on Roncesvalles and went home once again with bonus foodstuffs as a reward for my faltering attempts at remembering my pathetic polish. For lunch today I'm having roast pork sammidge (to make up for all the healthy vegetarian stuff I've been living off of) and one day I'm going to subject someone to the polish pat� that is now in with the minuscule canned goods portion of our kitchen.
We met up at home, hugged some more, ate with a gourmandise I would have been regretting this morning had it not all been so damnably good for me, and, well, proceeded to have quite possibly the best sex of my young life.
Consequently, I'm in a phenomenal mood this morning -- and even though I start physio this afternoon, I'm not at all worried about it anymore. I'm feeling tonnes better since last week, and all the exercise I've been doing (followed by long hot soaks) is clearly doing me good, and the physio is no longer in order to allow me to walk again; it's intended to put me in the best possible shape for when we start trying again.
Oh, and one more item of sweetness from yesterday: I had two phone calls that would have brightened me out of any mood -- a happy long (and I'm so not usually a phone person) sweet chat with the lady Ford of diaryland fame making plans for next week, and a call from the student midwife who had attended our birth.
She was calling to say goodbye. I had my discharge appointment with one of the other miwdives on Tuesday, and Lilly had heard that we were leaving, and that the OB had decided that it would be better if I stayed in a doctor's care next time around.
She called us all sorts of beautiful things, brave and loving and bright lights -- and I called her all of them back. We reminisced the events of those two days in detail but with optimism and hope, and she left me bristling with warmth when she said how she would never forget us; our little boy, and the incredible love that we shone with in that room, throughout. I tried to leave her with just as much; and told her that her sweetness and courage had formed my opinion of the greatness of midwives everywhere, and that she was already an incredible midwife. I heard her voice catch, I'm glad she heard me.
And when Dave came home just after that phone call, all her words came flowing in with him over the threshhold, and when I saw him every item of the stress of the last weeks was washed away in the flood of love that hit me full frontally. The best evening of my life followed; each moment bursting with joy, warmth, love.
Whatever I lived through that decade ago, each barb, each hurt, each tragedy has been more than made up for by so many of the moments of this year. I would never wish that decade ago on anyone; but I would wish last night's joy on even the most surly of humans.