Moms, Coffee Makers, and loads of Luck

Spent the weekend with J. A packed one, to tell the truth.

Yet, I still can't find anything wrong with J.

Seriously, I've really looked. Thoroughly. So far? I've come up empty. He spent the night last night (scandalous, I realize, but I do, indeed, sleep better with him around) after a day spent meeting his mother (who is just lovely), hitting an auction house in Boston, (with his mom in tow), a bite of lunch, and the Round the World Revisit The Past To Bury It Trip.

Who offers to go on that? I wasn't even positive I wanted to be there.

He insisted that I should not go alone; he was already in the car, Pucker, hopefully shedding pounds at fat camp, we had plenty of time.

Big breath.

We went out to the Dream Home. The new owners haven't done much; the matching pink dogwoods I'd planted are still there, on either side of the deck, the weeping cherry, still in the front yard, the baby peach tree, gracing the huge expanse of empty front lawn. They've added the lights out to the end of the drive as I'd wanted; sitting there, with J close at hand (literally, in hand) I waited for that keening noise to come from nowhere - the one I'd stocked up for this very day.

Never arrived.

The house leaves me.......cold. Indifferent. Yes, I miss certain things: my kitchen, my central vacuum, playing with Fox on the front lawn, the puppies....but I don't miss the work, the heartache, the sadness surrounding the house. Revisiting my Den of Hiding Out, where, let's face it, I hid for a long time, til thrown out, if we're honest - he kept asking how I felt. If I was okay.

I was. I am.

We tackled Raymond Street next; I'm so pleased that a family has moved in. Truly. They've a little guy too, maybe two or so; they've managed to get the permit to put in a driveway that we couldn't get while we lived there - it looks like a happy home. Not my Ugly House. Not B's parent's house. It's their house. I'm happy for that.

Though I'm sorry for them too - that damn bamboo that I spent so much time and effort trying to kill? Still there.

We went, picked up Pucker Up, settled into After 5s right after the 5pm hour, only to hang around the house, just us. Very cozy. Comfy. I love that I don't have to be perfectly groomed all the time (hell, not even most of the time lately!!) as we're doing one project or another, or simply enjoying each other's company. Watched tv, the totally oblivious We've No Clue What We're Watching, Or Why, ate popcorn for dinner, snugged up together. A perfect night.

We ended up going to his house, early this am (okay, have found one flaw: the man gets up at 7am on a SUNDAY for crying out loud!) to do a little straightening - funny thing, to me, straightening up includes a quick scrub down in the bath, putting away the toys, the vacuuming, running laundry and dishwasher. Heavy cleaning? Scrubbing baseboards. (clearly, not done for a long time in THIS house) - I suppose, he thought I'd gotten carried away. Maybe I had.

I was only trying to be as helpful to him, as he is to me. Kind. Thoughtful. It was one less thing he had to worry about, when the kids came home. We didn't see it the same way: apparently, I've put my foot into it, right and proper. So I took Pucker Up for a stroll, (when in doubt, leave the house, right?) we left to go to my house, and there he presents me with yet another gift: the Kuerig coffee maker I've wanted for years. With all the little cuppies to make the coffee, tea, cocoa.

Now the tears came.

I didn't deserve the house I'd had, or - all those old demons reared their ugly little horned heads - It's....too much. He's too much- too freaking perfect, I'm not entirely sure I deserve him. I don't know how to keep up. He's sweet. Makes me laugh. Holds my hand, all the time. Like he's not going to let go. Here he was, angry with me for missing his little hints that he didn't want me going all Domestic Goddess on his house - and he still shows up with something he knew I'd adore?

It wasn't (and isn't) about the gifts...it's the other stuff. He wasn't angry at me still that I'd screwed up and not listened to what he was really saying? No lecture? How am I supposed to know what to expect, if he's so freaking....grown up...all the time?! He talks to me about what bothers him; wants to talk about what bothers me - even when I'm quite sure I don't want to discuss it, thank you very much.

I can't imagine, most days, why he'd want to put up with me - my array of Leftover Stray Baggage, so much some days it feels like it requires it's own claim check no matter where we go - he's patient, loving, knows how to end a discussion, and make up. Properly. I suck at that. It's a skill I hope I can learn fast enough. Or at all.

He keeps asking me how did he get so lucky to find me?

Funny, I keep thinking I'm the lucky one.