They’re Not Yellow, They’re Gold

That was 's response to me pointing out in my basketcasey and sick mood, last night/early this morning (for us, we consider a day not over until we've slept) that yellow roses meant goodbye.

He brought me purple flowers, too, a mixed bouquet, because he knows I like purple. And he even put them in water for me, something that almost never happens.

We still have no plans, but now it's because I still feel blechy (although my hair no longer hurts). Maybe we'll see a movie and go out for Chinese food. I've been craving pot-stickers and Mongolian beef for days.

But a more personal part of our celebration took place just before sleep last night. I'll spare y'all the details.

New Season; New Colors

Every so often, I decide that archiving is bad, and I purge things. Tonight, I've done some spring cleaning in my livejournal. I downloaded everything, changed colors, deleted all the stuff I'd downloaded.

I'm tired. And I have a cold, and I skipped gaming tonight because of that, and because my eyes hurt. But there's only so long that I can nap without going crazy. Unfortunately, I can't enjoy being alone in this house because I really feel pathetic and I want here, even if he's glued to his computer, because then the house feels complete, and because I blew off game night, and sent him without me, and I wanted him to not want to go.

This weekend is our 7th anniversary. We have no plans, and even after asking him directly, he had no suggestions, and I feel cast aside and unloved, even though I know it's just his midwestern terseness.

It's midnight.
I'm cold and I'm tired and I want my husband home.

Yes, obviously, I'm still whiney and complain-y.
Deal with it.
Everyone else gets to be moody, too, at times.