I got home from work and we headed straight down to the grocery store. Joe had decided that he wanted bangers and mash for supper and that he wanted to eat them while watching either Poirot or Midsummer Murders on Netflix. Then. He wanted to go to bed. We're both really tired from the travel. It sounded like a perfect birthday for an elderly gent.
At the grocery store we quickly found what we wanted, picked out a very small birthday cake, a bigger one will be made today with the help of two little girls who have their own idea of what a 'Joe cake' should be like. He went this way in the store, I went that way, we met in the middle, with bangers in one hand and a bag of mash in the other. We were good to go.
We stopped and checked lottery tickets, picked up a few more, and then were on our way home. All the way there we chatted about our last trip, our upcoming trip and about things that were happening this weekend. We are all going up the tower on Sunday for lunch. It was an easy time.
As we sat down in front of the television to watch Poirot work his way through a mystery, it felt nice. To be home. To be together. And just to be having a relaxing time on Joe's first night of birthday celebrations.
I asked him if he was having a good birthday. He said that it was perfect, that he loved my gift, (lemon curd) and that just being at home, and us eating comfort food together was the best way he could imagine spending the day.
Later he said that he thought the universe had given him a gift. "Did you notice," he said, "we went shopping when it was very busy, we don't go on Friday because it's so busy, and there's no blog to write. Everything was just fine we were just like two people together shopping."
"That," said I, "is the perfect blog post."
We laugh a lot.