Something Perfect

by cecimadden

I have been a little over-tired and cranky, and yesterday I talked myself out of buying myself flowers three times.  Three times! That’s how sorry I felt for myself.

Speaking of yesterday: I had an appointment with my dental hygienist.  You may remember how much I like her.  No really.  She’s got spunk, good energy, and you can just tell she’s good at her job.  To save you a long (and very stupid story) I’ll just tell you in a nutshell that I wound up sobbing in her chair.  Sobbing!  (How embarrassing, yes, I know!)  Afterward, I could tell she felt terrible and I told her I was sorry.  Her response: “WHAT are you sorry for?”  She looked me square in the eye, tossed her hands up, and said, matter-of-factly, “You are a sensitive soul, that’s all there is to it.”

Seriously, that woman should get a raise.  How can you be really good at your job AND have a great attitude, AND deal with people sobbing in your chair (worse things too, I’m sure), AND know how to say the perfect thing?!  (Also, I’m pretty sure no one’s ever called me a “sensitive soul” before.)

Speaking of perfect things: After draining myself of emotion at the dentist, I proceeded to have a semi-decent day, and didn’t once cave to the impulse to buy myself flowers.  So imagine how overjoyed I was when Jim and Rachel came to pick me up at the train station bearing…wait for it…FLOWERS!  Does the man read my mind or what?  He also had some blue cheese stuffed olives, which really would have been enough on their own, but gosh…what a gift.  Well played, Mr. Madden.  Well played.

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