As you know, last week was a majorly crummy one, mostly spent crying about having to put the dog down, or comforting crying kids about having to put the dog down. I struggled to meet my column deadline on Friday, because I just couldn't concentrate.
Well, on Thursday afternoon, I got an e-mail from the_webmeister asking if someone was going to be home between 3-5 on Friday afternoon because he was sending us a surprise. I replied in the affirmative, and then immediately started wondering when he'd sent.
Friday morning was crummy again, because daughter's blood sugar was through the roof (I HATE DIABETES) and it meant I couldn't get to the gym for a much needed workout. I texted The Webmeister telling him I needed a hug.
He texted me on Friday about 3:30 asking if the surprise had arrived yet. Nope.
At 5:30 I texted him saying that UPS still hadn't arrived. He wrote back saying he had "every confidence" that the parcel would arrive that evening, and that he'd let me know when he got the delivery confirmation.
At about 6:30 daughter and I were leaving through the garage to go see a movie. I'd told son to text me as soon as the parcel arrived. Across the street was a UPS truck. I was just saying to daughter, "Hmm, I wonder if they're going to deliver our parcel?" when a car pulled into our driveway. I'm half looking at the UPS truck and half thinking, "Who's that? We're not expecting anyone?" when all of a sudden I notice the make of the car and the Massachusetts plates and realize - it's HIM!! It's the Webmeister!
He'd come to deliver my much-needed hug in person. There are times when the ((((((((hug)))))) won't do, and he obviously realized that this one one of them, bless him.
Anyway, he and daughter and I went to see "27 Dresses", which I really enjoyed. Last night, he and I went to see "Atonement". I'd been half anticipating and half dreading seeing the film, because I'd loved the book so very much - I was utterly distraught when I read the last chapter and spent the next half hour crying my eyes out.
I'd grabbed a huge wadge of tissues before heading to the cinema, because I figured I was in for another sobfest, but I was curiously dry eyed. Curious because I normally cry at the drop of a hat, and also because I'd been so emotional at the end of the book. But although the film was beautifully done, and well acted (after seeing this and The Last King of Scotland, I now have a major thing for James McAvoy) I just didn't connect to the characters the way I did in the book.
More proof for my theory that with the possible exception of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the book is ALWAYS better than the film.