A good man is hard to find...

And Michael is unquestionably the best man in the world, at least according to my estimation. Which, for us, is all that counts.
 
On Saturday, of course, I was tired and weary from coming in to work a half day instead of sleeping in. On the way home I went shopping and found nothing. Thus I was thoroughly demoralised when Michael called to say that he was on the way home from the War Room. Trying not to sound plaintive [whiny], I told him my troubles. Now, see, the classic male/female communication breakdown is that women tend to talk simply to talk or create an emotional connection whereas men tend to talk to solve problems. I've never favoured this method. I'm not a fan of therapeutic talking. But if ever by chance I do fall into this, Michael is always ready to lend a sympathetic ear. This time he both made me feel better and solved my problems. 'Never mind about the baking. It can wait. Don't worry about the dishes - I'll load up the dishwasher for you. I'm on my way home and we'll both go in to get the oil changed together, and then we'll go shopping and find you some clothes.' Wow! What a man! That brightened my mood! But it doesn't stop there. The saga of Michael's wonderfulness continues. We went out shopping and found several things, and all was happiness and cheer. But there was this one top that I liked excessively but decided on the side of prudence. 'Do I really need this? I already have two purple tops....better not.' Then on Sunday I voiced my wistful regret at having passed it up. 'I'm having second thoughts about that purple top,' I announced to Michael. 'I really wanted it, after all. What was I thinking? The two purple tops I have now are casual tops! I really need that shimmery purple number! Oh, well. Spilt milk.' Case closed. Or so I thought.
 
Yesterday he came home from work and handed me a bag containing the purple top. He had stopped on his way home from work and bought it for me! I just think he's the coolest guy in the world.
 
We watched An American in Paris last night. I've always wanted to see it. It was very well done, with incredible dance numbers, clever song lyrics, and the witty repartee so characteristic of classic movies. But the ending was decidedly unsatisfactory.