crowdog66

After discovering that the coffee maker was kerplotz, I crawled back into bed with George (did I mention he's been working the night shift?), who woke up enough for me to tell him about the death of one of our most essential household appliances. He reminded me that we had my mother's old coffee maker in a box in the hallway. Hurrah! I immediately went and dug it out, and it worked like a charm, although we'll have to fiddle with how much coffee it takes to make a full pot that's not too weak and not so strong that it eats its way through our mugs.

We read the paper (in the company of Emmie and Mina, who alternated hopping up between us for petting). I explained to George that today is one of those days when I feel like shit: I'm depressed for no apparent reason, the buzzing in my brain has given me the mental equivalant of tunnel vision, and I think I could sleep for about a week if I went back to bed.

A few minutes ago, after we'd sat down at our computers to do Internet stuff, George stood up, came up behind me, kissed the top of my head, and said: "When are you eating again?"

Me: "At about eight o'clock."

George: "Why don't we go out to Niko's for dinner?" (Niko's is a Greek restaurant just up the street.)

Well, that just brightened up my whole state of mind.

I love my husband every day, actually. He has his bad moments, like any human being, but in general he's one of the kindest and most thoughtful people I've ever known.

Now I just have to take a shower, which in my present condition is going to constitute a real act of willpower. When I'm depressed the shower, with its flashing water striking my body, feels like sensory overload. Oh, well. I'll survive, and I'll be cleaner to boot.