Loverboy’s best friend, Jack, and his wife, Dawne, sat on the lovely antique couch, and Loverboy sat on the ugly couch across from them, with the coffee table in between.

(Now, the living room is exactly as it always was, except switched end for end; so it is back to its long and narrow look, the one I was attempting to minimize by rearranging furniture. I am still growly about this, but Loverboy disarmed me by saying kindly “Just wait a little longer,” to which I replied “All right; and please try to understand how hard I am working on being patient about this -- it’s been six months already!”)

I sat beside Loverboy and, as the evening’s conversation progressed, it occurred to me how rare it is to have an opportunity to snuggle up next to him while he is both available and pleasant. Usually when he’s home he’s stretched out on the couch watching tv or sleeping, or he’s on the phone talking to clients, or he’s reading the classifieds looking for deals on farm equipment or half-tons, or he’s cranky so I’m keeping my distance, working upstairs in the kitchen or something.

But last night he was glad to have his friends here and not thinking about all the things he should be doing instead of relaxing. The TV was not on, so there was actual human relating; it was a welcome change, and my favourite part of the evening was the reminder of what a lovely man Loverboy is when he is putting on his best face, and how much I enjoy being near him when he is happy and “in public.”