muffins of glee
Thank you flowers for my mother because she’ll bake muffins whenever the oven is on (blueberry last week, double chocolate this week and she notes that my reaction upon seeing them is one of utter glee. I tell her glee with a capital G). She cooked up a massive pot of the most delicious chicken soup yesterday when she thought I was coming down with a cold and has put up with my over-tiredness and general grumpiness of late. She lingers at my doorway as she says good night and good morning with a furrowed brow, watching as I turn pages and type furiously. She thinks I work too hard. I think she does. I think she’s the best. She doesn’t even complain anymore when I bring clothes home from the op-shop.
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