Two thirty or not

Yesterday evening I was in an advanced state of hobble and moan, so I give thanks for the little miracle of getting into bed and all the pain just disappearing. The funny thing about pain disappearing, whatever the sort, is that you don't stop and wonder about its departure, you just get on being you and only realise in retrospect. I give thanks for remembering the me I am when I don't hurt...and surprising someone else.

I give thanks for turning the light out and dropping almost straight into deep and dreamy sleep. For waking sore enough to stay still but not unpleasantly, and lie there lazily mulling over the day's logistic challenges. For remembering my much altered dental appointment had finally landed at two thirty, and that they didn't! For wondering how to get there, whether I'd get to the Post Office too, and how I'd ever get to Waitrose as even if I got a cab I'd need someone to push a trolley round for me to hold on to...before the Universe interrupted and said 'No problem - I got this!'

I give thanks to Colin for his kindness and Colinness. For his patience...and mine! I give thanks restorative doses of Tesco's spinach and ricotta stoneground pizza, bought on a whim on special offer and so delicious I had to slice it and freeze it or I'd have polished it off in one sitting. For making the dentist and the folk in the Post Office laugh - the Post Office staff are a doddle, they're such friendly folk, but the dentist's been a tough nut to crack especially as I try to see him only twice a year...

I give thanks for the indescribable (and uncapturable) colours as darkness fell, like a sepia tone but lilac grey, with the deep orange of the leaves holding on to the last of the light the longest. I give thanks for dossing around on my bed waiting for Rachel to come with tea and acupuncture needles. All in all the kind of day if I'd been stuck in Punxsutawney I wouldn't have minded repeating...