A really exciting email from the man above the make of my dreams and a nice bottle of wine from an appreciative customer occurring within a matter of 24 hours notwithstanding, not to mention the extra cheddar I'm earning today (yo!) by filling in for my old job, last night will stand as one of the single most important and exciting events to have ever graced my life.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, or non-existent audience, I announce that upon my arrival home last night, my boyfriend of a year and a half proposed.
Oh, this is NO ordinary story. It may SOUND ordinary. But it is not. It's just not.
No. The words you see printed in dreadful, plain, and non-spectacular black and white are just that: misrepresented in ALL of their glory. ALL. See, 'cause there are all these sparkly, electrical, zapping little fireworks that explode tiny pops all over every word. The formation, angle, and essence of each word is a radiated corona of euphoric triumph.
There were no plans for at least two years. We had talked early on about things. We had goals. We were in common thread about the future. We had both been married before. There was by no means a rush.
And then, one day, without so much as a warning, save for the really exciting email mentioned at the start, I came home from an ordinary day at work, slipped into my ordinary grub garb, and had been tinkering around with ordinary chores when I turned around to see my super sexy boyfriend in the doorway of the spare room.
The email I had received was a ring sizing chart. I couldn't even catch my breath at the prospect of him looking at rings at work AND him having a moment to email me about it. Another email followed with a photo of a ring twice as beautiful as I had dreamed. The email said to measure my finger so that I could be surprised in a few years.
The sexy man in the doorway was looking at me. He was being his normal attentive self. I thought nothing of it and smiled. (I love it when he is near me.) We spoke of the email. I found myself trying to catch my breath again as I prattled about the email. He mentioned something about not being able to keep surprises for the second time that day and laughed. I didn't catch it. I was just trying to calm myself down from the memory of the photo from the email and keep my head level.
Finally, he reiterated his feelings for me, told me he wanted to be with me for the rest of his life, and, just as I was thinking about how I felt the same way, he reached into the hallway where the washer is, and pulled out a silver box.
He said my name, asked "will you marry me," and went down on his knee. The ring had come to life, from the page on the computer screen earlier that day to the real life thing of precious beauty, right in front of my face.
I was more stunned for words than I ever dreamed I would be, shouted a jubilant, exuberant "YES!" and squeezed his neck for five straight minutes.
It is fantastic. A triply spark-tastic glowing rainbow of fantastic