Best Roommate Ever

Okay, a disclaimer before I write today's post: Husband is a really, really terrific roommate. We've been roomies for more than 30 years now, and he's a good guy who is considerate about lights and fans and that kind of thing. He is my favorite roommate in many, many categories of the Best Roommate competition.

However, as I remembered again over the weekend, he may be only the runner-up in this competition. Once again I was Pumpkin for Much Older Sister at the annual convention of the women's organization we both attend. As she was organizing and directing and basically working her fingers to bony stubs, I lounged around enjoying the hotel suite comped to the bony-fingered who do all the work of the convention.

While she was pinning down the logistics of registration and housing for more than 300 women (who could, on occasion, be cranky. It's true! Who knew?), she found time to leave a gift bag of goodies on the table beside my bed. And because she knows me particularly well, when she left for her 6:30 a.m. meeting she also left the nectar of the gods to ensure there would be only 299 cranky women because I would be deliriously caffeinated:

And then, because we are only 17 months apart in age and she knows the way to my heart, she also left this less tangible but no less appreciated gift which caused me to sigh happily, pull the high-thread-count duvet up around my ears and go back to sleep:

Ahhhhh! 

Sorry, Husband. You're a really, really terrific roommate, but at this stage of my life setting the thermostat to 68 during a Kansas summer may just trump lights and fans.

 Although you could try a gift bag...