I woke up bright and early this morning at 8 am (practically the crack of dawn as far as I am concerned) and felt great. Decided that my recovery was nearly over so I took a nice long bath, then did some light yoga to stretch out my poor back, a complete mess of knotted muscles after spending how many days laying on the sofa, and then dashed off to the grocery store to do a big shop.
First warning sign that I should have abandoned this ambitious plan- B didn't give me enough cash. I ignored it and carried on. Second indication that it would have been better put off til tomorrow- I realized that I left the house too late and would need to pick up Ella from garderie first and bring her along. Third flashing red light from the universe that this plan should be torpedo-ed - Ella was hungry and had snot dripping down her face, having clearly picked up her first cold of the season from that petri dish called daycare. And so I finally have conclusive evidence that my medicine induces hallucinations because I carried on as if nothing was wrong and descended into the bowels of Monoprix for a two cart shopping spree.
I am so bone-tired right now that I can't even get into the particulars about how and where and when it all went wrong but I finally got Ella into bed for her nap, but only after she slipped backwards off the living room armchair to land flat on her back on the floor. There is no sound comparable to the hollow thud of a child's head hitting a hard surface. Or the window shattering shrieks that follow. I just took some pain killers and I am praying that the deliveryman will arrive with my groceries soon so that I can collapse into bed for a few well-earned hours of sleep.
Hopefully Ella and I will both be energized by our naps and manage to bake the cupcakes I had planned for dinner tonight. Its our 8th wedding anniversary and since its a Monday and we actually already celebrated with a gorgeous dinner out at the restaurant 1728 back in July, I figured we could do something low key. I should actually pop out for some flowers and remember to put some champagne in the fridge just to make things a bit more romantic tonight. Who am I kidding- as if B will notice anything else once he spies the plate full of cupcakes.
This year I am a bit bummed because we have a tradition of buying a piece of artwork to celebrate our anniversary. Not only have we not been looking but I think I may have spent the art budget on a new set of silver. Its a long story, and totally destroys any rock n' roll illusions I may have tried to build up around myself, but here it is. Basically for our wedding list, I only managed to convince B to buy a service of silverware for 6 (we lived in an apartment that was about 35 m² at the time and it was physically impossible to have more than 6 people sitting down at any one time so it didn't seem like that unreasonable of a compromise.) However, ever since we moved to our current apartment, its sort of bugged me that I never have enough nice silverware for special occasions like Thanksgiving dinner, or just a regular dinner with our friends, since we are almost never less than 8. On the otherhand, its not enough of an annoyance that I could be convinced to spend full price buying the silver from the store where we bought the original set. I've been scouring Ebay for pieces to complete my set for, oh, about 5 years now. AND I HAVE BEEN OUTBID EVERY !*&$!* TIME. Finally, about two weeks ago, I found a great set up for auction, service for 15 plus tons of serving pieces PLUS things like butter knives and soup spoons and cocktail forks. My little bourgeois heart seized up with longing, "Must have it! Must have it!" was thumping through my veins, day and night. I put in some low bids just to get the lay of the land and realized that I was up against a few sharks. I had to break down and bring B in on the action in order to figure out what my limit was on this. I think that the years of listening to me twitter on about silverware, of all things, has just worn this poor man down and he let me put in an unbeatable bit. Drum roll please.... tadadadadada... I finally won my longed for Reed and Barton Spanish Baroque silverware service. (Yes, I do sometimes take a step back and marvel at how extraordinarily ridiculous I have become.) I am now in frantic email contact trying to sort out exactly how to ship a metric tonne of silver over to France but I am a happy happy hausfrau. It just doesn't seem fairplay to start pestering my lovely indulgent husband about art tonight, especially once he is in a chocolate coma, splayed on the sofa with little crumbs caught in his stubble, totally defenseless. (Think Discovey Channel documentary about sea lions on the beach digesting a fresh meal of herring, and you've got a pretty good picture.) But, he's my walrus and wouldn't trade him for any other- even after 8 years.