Tonight.

I came home from work to a surprise.

TheHusband, who has been convalescing, went to the store for some supplies.

Then, he cleaned off the dining room table. (He lives for the table. When he puts something on it [think: "OMG!! a flat surface, let me put (whatever is in his hand) here and leave it there until someone else (usually me...) puts it away!"]

Then he made a cake. (As you know, my birthday was about three weeks ago, and I didn't get a cake, nor a present... but I'm not bitter. Much.)

Then he started working on a homemade dinner. He set the table with the dishes we bought two weeks ago, and bought some flowers for the table. It looks nice.

He said it was a "Happy Birthday Better Late Than Never... I Was Really Bored Today" dinner.

It's nice, and I really do appreciate it.

Of course, when TheHusband cooks dinner, he starts around 4:00, and we never eat until after 10:00 pm.

Tonight is right on schedule. It's 8:30ish right now, and he's only half way done.

Gods, but I love him.