Well, not yet. But soon. Steve’s depressed. “You gave me such a great birthday,” he says. “But I have no clue what to get you.”
“No, because then it’s not a surprise for you. I mean, I wasn’t expecting any of the stuff you got me, you just went and got stuff you knew I’d like.”
(Ahem, this is me putting in a plug for myself for awesome girlfriendedness. Never mind the fact that even though he SAID he wanted an alarm clock with a CD player, he now wants me to return it and get a plain one. But he liked the rest.)
“Okay,” I said.
“Well, okay, tell me what you want.”
“There’s always the still,” I said hopefully. Actually, I’ve decided that I want a copper alembic still, so I can make hydrosols, rather than the glass one.
“Are you kidding? You’ll set the house on fire.”
Bummer. Though he’s probably right.
“There are some prints I’m coveting.”
I told him that I’m thinking about replacing my desk, which is sawhorses and building planks for something that looks nicer and is a bit smaller. All of a sudden he got quiet. This morning, he left really early and came back an hour ago. “You’re going to have the best birthday ever,” he said before he took off again.
Dare I hope?