I'm not feeling well but I dragged myself to work because there is something I must absolutely get done today. Yet, I haven't actually started work on that task. Instead, I'd rather wallow in my lethargy and dream about going home and climbing in bed. Ah, sweet, warm, cozy bed....
If I can't actually get any work done, at least I can write for the blog. I wanted to put something up last night, but I was beat. For no good reason since this weekend brought record amounts of sleep--at least since I met Owen. And, yes, that is good news because I did not wake him up or fuss at him at any time regarding sleeping habits and we did spend the night together on Friday and Saturday.
Friday, as I wrote, I had the day off and spent it well. When I got home, I was able to do some relaxing. Then I started dinner. It wasn't anything fancy, but I went ahead and set the table with pretty linen place mats and candles and I opened a bottle of wine. I tried to pick some appropriate music and I ended up putting on Edith Piaf. Music was playing and the table was set when Owen arrived just before 7pm. He liked the music and took me in his arms for a few impromptu dance steps. It was very sweet and a little embarrassing... and I know that makes no sense because only Miss Tabitha was there to witness us and she already thinks I'm crazy. I had to break free from the dancing to check on dinner, but Owen guided me through a few more steps before we ate...I started to relax and enjoy myself.
We sat down to eat and we were both pleased to be there, together, enjoying a meal. The wine was good too. (Thank you anonymous party guest who brought it as a present who knows how long ago.) I was a little nervous because we hadn't talked since Wednesday morning and I still felt bad about my behavior. I brought it up over dinner. He had received my email and I apologized again. He nodded and gave me a wry smile and said, "If I'd been more awake, we would have had a real fight."
I said, "If I'd been more awake, I would never have started that in the first place. I wasn't thinking clearly."
"You know I really need my sleep. I'm grumpy and I snap at people if I don't sleep enough...so it's important to me."
"I know. And I know...I know you were withdrawn, but that it wasn't because of me. I overreacted. I'd like to say it will never happen again...but at least I know what was going on."
"It was a really hard week. It was the first time I've been at work without [the guy who was fired] and it was really hard."
"I'm sorry, I'm sure it was tough." Pause. "So, do you forgive me?"
"Of course." And he took my hand. I think we're ok.
After dinner, we watched a movie. It was pretty dumb but we enjoyed it. We went to sleep early.
In the morning, Owen slept while I puttered around getting ready for my regatta (not a big deal--an end of the season scrimmage). He'd decided to go straight home and shower, etc. there. I was ready by 9am and I roused Owen. When it was time to go, I couldn't find my metrocard. I was riding my bike but I needed to find the card so I wouldn't go crazy wondering all day where it disappeared to. Owen was very patient, "Where are the pants you wore yesterday?"
"Hanging on the door, but I already checked there." He checked again anyway. Then it hit me, "Aha!" I'd placed it on top of a pile of papers that I'd moved off the dining room table to prepare for dinner. I'd tucked the pile in a bookshelf. I plucked the card off the pile. "That's what I get for cleaning up!" We laughed and headed out together.
The regatta was fun. My mixed eight, which was six women and two men, rowed a great race. We were together, kept up a good pace the entire piece, and sprinted our hearts out. It was a great way to end the season. I stuck around for the post-racing barbecue and then I headed home. I tried to nap, somewhat successfully, and then took a shower. Later on, there was a party for the end of the season, near where Owen lives. The plan was to go to his place and hang out before the party, go to the party, then spend the night at Owen's. Because the party included awards and announcements, I was going to get there first and Owen would come about an hour later.
I got to Owen's house around 6pm and we snuggled up on the sofa and watched tv. I mentioned that I needed to eat. But he'd already eaten! I said, "What are you, 65? Eating at 5pm."
"Sorry! I don't have much food here. I could make you a sandwich..."
"I guess I should have picked something up. I didn't think about it."
"Do you want a sandwich?"
"Sure. That would be great. Can I have it on toast?"
"I guess so." Smart aleck! He made me a sandwich. How sweet was that?
I asked him if he wanted to come to the party earlier and he said, "I thought you said it was going to be boring."
"It is. But if you want to come with me..."
"Do you want me to come now?"
"It isn't a test. You can come later, it's fine."
"Ok, that's what I'll do. When should I get there?"
"Around 9:45 or 10. We should be done with the announcements and all that by then."
I took off early enough to stop by the store and buy some beer. But I couldn't find the store so I called Owen and asked him where it was. He helped me get there and I gave him better directions to the party since I found it while wandering aimlessly.
I got to the party a little before 9:00pm and said hello to the handful of people I knew. Because my group rows in the afternoon and everyone else rows in the morning, I haven't met many folks outside of my circle. It was a good turnout, though, and it seemed like it would be a good time.
Then the awards started. A young woman who rows in the morning is starting to do stand-up comedy and she was the MC. Oh lord, that was a bit of a painful experience listening to her 15 minutes of stand-up before the awards even started. Long evening coming right up.
Around 9:30, I checked my cell phone and found this message from Owen: I just threw up :(
He hadn't been feeling great earlier in the evening but we didn't think he was sick. Guess we were wrong. I found a quiet room and called him. "Are you ok?"
"I don't feel so great. I'm sorry I can't make it."
I said, "Of course you should stay home. I don't need to stay much longer."
"No, you stay and have fun. Socialize with your friends."
"Ok, but...do you need anything?"
"I don't know..."
"What about some ginger ale?"
"Oh. That sounds good."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Ok, I'm bringing you some ginger ale and saltines. I shouldn't be any later than 11."
"Don't rush. I'm fine. I'll leave the ringer on loud so I'll hear it when you get here." (You have to call his cell to get into the building.)
"Ok, please, yes do that. I'll see you soon."
I went back to listening to the speeches and tedious comedy bits and I couldn't stand it. It would have been impossibly rude to leave but I didn't want to be there anymore. I wanted to go take care of my sick boyfriend! Not that there was much I could do for him but I was very done with the party.
I wasn't able to make a break for it until 10:00 pm. I said goodbye to my few friends and I almost ran out of there. I picked up the ginger ale and crackers and got back to Owen's before 10:30. He was a little surprised to see me--but happy too. I poured him some ginger ale but he was so out of it we went to sleep before he could drink it all.
Because of the early bedtime, I was wide awake by 6:30am. I didn't wake Owen but I was restless. At 7:30, I got up and went to the living room and read for a while. Around 8:30, I poked my head in Owen's room and he said hello. I got back in bed and we talked and cuddled for a while before getting moving. He seemed fine--much perkier than the night before. We never did figure out what was wrong with him.
We actually went out to breakfast and, because I had the flexcar, I took him and the roommate grocery shopping. I tell you, those are two of the fastest shoppers I've ever met. I spent a couple more hours of that miserable, wet Sunday watching football with them and then I got on the metro back to DC to meet my book group. It's been ages since I made it to book group and it was fun to see those folks. It was a good meeting and I'm glad I read the book.
I was completely exhausted by the time I got home but I couldn't figure out why. I'd slept fairly well both Friday and Saturday. This morning, I had my answer: I'm getting sick. Boo!
I'm still here at work and I'm still unproductive. I'm going home soon. I wonder if I have a boyfriend who will take care of me. That would be nice, wouldn't it?
Grateful for: a completely reasonable weekend.
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