Green Thumb, Red Wine

Today has been a day of small pleasures.

I woke up, late, and half stumbled/crawled out of my room in the direction of the shower. For those of you who have seen me in the morning BEFORE my shower, you know why this is funny. I am not often coherent in the morning, or standing, as mentioned above. After my shower, the world makes sense, it smells like soap, and I can stand up straight. Before my shower, I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed. And this is how my roommate found me, swaying in the hallway, looking for the bathroom. Which, of course, I was standing beside. She laughed and laughed. "I love you in the morning!" she said. First small pleasure, fuzzily recorded in my brain.

After my shower, I wanted very much to put on my favourite pair of jeans. But I noticed a small tear in the fabric that would soon turn into a hole. I squished downstairs in my towel, found my needle and thread, squished back upstairs, and fixed it up. I felt so thrifty. I was glowing. Second small pleasure.

After eating breakfast and packing my bag, I wandered out to the bus to get myself to work. I noticed I had left my wallet behind. I went back home. Resigned to being late, I trudged outside to get the next bus, which would put me at least 20 minutes behind. Then I heard my dear roommate say that she was driving by my work anyway, and that she could give me a lift. Third small pleasure.

I'm at work. Things are going, as they do, not too fast but not too slowly. I see that my plant, Herman, who I rescued from a co-worker's garbage can, is sprouting new leaves. When I found him, he was brown and crispy. But the new leaves are bright green, soft, and curled up like a baby. I'm thrilled. Then I get a lovely e-mail. Even more thrilled. Then I get to break for lunch. And for once, I finish work on time. Fourth small pleasure(s) rolled into a day at the office.

I catch my bus right away, but not without sprinting for three blocks first. I get home and realize that (gasp) I have no plans for the evening. HAPPY. A MILLION SMALL PLEASURES. I can't even remember the last time this happened. I open a bottle of wine, make a pot of lentil soup, wrap myself in a wool blanket, and eat olives.

And here I am still. Things are good. Moments like this don't tend to last, so I am going to milk it for all it's worth. Now if I can find some chocolate cookies stashed somewhere in my house, I will be elated. If all I can find is the bottom of this wine bottle, I will be.... okay, elated. And drunk. Cheers to you.