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.