I showered away merrily. I had just returned from a long weekend of traveling with a friend and I couldn't wait to wash that plane smell off me. I shampooed my hair, conditioning it with care. No matter how good the hotel, they just never get their shampoos right. I let the hot steaming water run over my back, luxuriating in the comfort of being back in my own home. The joy of my own soap lathering in my hands. I know the earth is dying and we should conserve water, but, I thought, I usually am pretty good about taking quick showers. I'm tired and the water is warm and comforting, and there's not much wrong with that.
I stepped out, my hair wrapped in a towel. A little out of breath. I'd stayed in long enough to make the bathroom a sauna. There was very little light from the side of the living room and kitchen. It made sense - maybe D was using garlic or sauteing onions and we usually don't like to leave the door open to save ourselves from smelling the stale cooking smells for days on end.
I padded into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed in a sauna-steam-warmth-exhaustion. I pulled on something. I shook my hair out and tried ineffectively to rub it dry. Okay, dinner time. It was our two-year anniversary. I knew D was cooking, I had picked up dessert. I looked forward to catching up with him. It seemed like so much had happened over the weekend. I'd help him lay the table. I'd prop my feet on his knees as I pulled the plate into my lap and tucked into my meal. I'd get up and go get some water to drink.
I padded out towards the living room and stopped. Through the glass door I saw candles. Flowers. A soft glow. D stepped out of the kitchen just then carrying plates loaded with something absolutely delicious smelling. There was wine in our glasses. Music too.