It's the Little Things That Count

The first "little thing" of the day was Angel. As I was waking up, he crawled up on my chest and went to sleep. He loves on his own terms, which is not what I like in a cat. However, his parsimonious love makes it all the more precious.

Last spring the Jazzman and I went somewhere; I was ill-equipped for the cool weather that blew in. He tossed me a black sweatshirt hoodie from the trunk of the car. I instantly fell in love with the garment, which I'm sure he bought a his favorite thrift store. I'd sneak it off his bedside chair when I thought he wasn't looking, and always return it from whence it came. Last night he pulled it from his closet and told me I could have it. I could have it!! Honestly, that's more precious than the black turtleneck cashmere sweater I've been wanting him to buy me (um, to replace the one he shrunk in the dryer a couple of months ago).

So this morning, with the temps hovering around 50 degrees and the sky filled with clouds, I put a silk tank, a cotton turtleneck, and MY new black hoodie on over a pair of comfy knit Eileen Fisher slacks. After pulling my socks on, I slipped my feet into the Jazzman's fleece-lined slippers, just waiting for me on his side of the bed.

Now, in my ever-chilly office, I'm toasty warm.

And very lucky.