Last weekend went so much better than I thought it would. Looking back at the post where I was not exactly anticipating his arrival, I feel really bad. Though it could have gone wrong (believe me, some of our visits are not great) this one was just about perfect.
I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. I really, really clean when he's coming, so it's the norm to remove all the contents of my refrigerator, then the drawer and racks, scour the inside, then move the refrigerator so I could scrub the floor underneath it and vacuum the coils on the back. That's a clean fridge, my friends, and imagine how long that took. Now imagine me cleaning every nook and cranny of the apartment like that. I removed books from shelves, dusted them individually, and put them back. There are over 600 books in the apartment. I dusted every light bulb. I did 17 loads of laundry in a week. I washed stuff that I knew was clean, but I was re-organizing the closets and everything that was going into storage was washed one more time. I dusted and vacuumed and organized and packed until 1 am every night. But I never seemed to be finished. I just ran out of time. By Friday afternoon I was very, very, very tired.
At the time he said he'd arrive, I was showered and exhausted on my couch, struggling to keep my eyes open. That was 3. At 7 I finally decided to make a run to the grocery store to try to stay awake. He called while I was in the check-out lane. He pulled in right behind me in front of the house. I was so nervous I couldn't even look up at him. I just pulled the bags out of the back seat, handed some to him, and walked to the front door. We were talking and everything, don't get me wrong. I wasn't an ice queen, but I was trying to be all cool and mature when what I really wanted to do was drop everything on the ground and leap into his arms.
So we get to the front door and I realize that I forgot to clean the glass on the storm door and the front door. I open the door and turn on the light and can't believe how much dust is on the stairs. Damn. Nice impression. But he didn't say a word about it. It's possible that he didn't notice, but if he did, he was nice about it. He's not the clean police - he just feels that cleanliness is an expression of how a person's mind and body are nurtured. Well, my mind and body are a mess, so some dust on the stairs is an accurate reflection. Believe me, I was much more embarassed by the 30 lbs I've gained since the last time he saw me than some dust bunnies. 30 lbs I can't fix on a month's notice. But he didn't say anything about that either. He was very sweet the whole weekend.
Anyway, groceries are put away, hugs are exchanged, and I'm too tired to cook the elaborate dinner I had planned (and it's pretty late anyway) so we go out to dinner. He went through my Buddhism bookshelf to examine the new aquisitions and gave me some incense I'd asked him to bring. Did you know that I studied Japanese incense and that's how I met him in the first place? You may have been wondering....sorry about that.
And that's where all the details will end, because we have a rule - what happens between us stays between us. And we like it that way. But suffice to say that he was absolutely perfect. He's been through so much in the last couple years, and I had no idea how much pain until I was with him. He and I will never be together in a boyfriend/girlfriend way, and we both know that and all the reasons why. (I only state this because I'm sure this post sounds like I'm all mushy and doe-eyed over him, and I don't want any of you to think that my spinster status might be in jeopardy.) But it was really, really great to spend time with him, and I miss him so much already.
There's one thing that I will share with you, but not very well. I still don't have a working camera, so I can't show you a picture. He made a table for me. A sutra table. It's low to the floor, meant to be used when sitting in meditation or doing caligraphy. It's absolutely gorgeous. I pet it every day. Seriously - before I was worried about how to get the cats out of the apartment if there was ever a fire. Now I have to get out with 2 cats and a sutra table. I love it that much. He did a french polish on it too, which means he spent hours and hours rubbing thin layers of shelac on it - for me. Maybe I mean something to him after all.