SOMEONE SAVED MY LIFE TONIGHT ... AND IT WASN'T ELTON JOHN

It's no secret to my regular readers that I have had a very stressful few weeks and have gotten about 1% of my holiday shopping done. 

Between work and grad school (which I didn't have to do because I already have a Master's necessary for my current job) I burnt myself out.  I almost murdered two obviously down-on-their-luck shoppers yesterday who walked off with my shopping cart at the grocery store.  I crashed and burned at my project presentation, and I had to sit in the lobby at the field trip today because the show continuously shoots off firecrackers for some stupid reason.  Yes, headset was on for almost two straight hours because there's no hiding -- the lobby is about ten feet wide and there are speakers everywhere including the bathroom stalls.  Yeah, talk about migraine triggers.  Gee, let me think for a sec ... thanks but no thanks.

I finally get home from work today, knowing that my house is a disaster that cannot be contained because of this research project.  My home is quite frankly a dump right now.  I have piles of books and piles of research papers and piles of notes and piles of my everyday mail and piles of miscellaneous crap.  The inside of my house looks like that garbage barge in New York that floated out on the river for a while. 

I am preoccupied because the shopping I was planning on doing this weekend will not get done: We're due to have snow, and a fair amount of it, on Saturday into Sunday.  In short, I am screwed.  Merry Christmas, relatives.

I lug myself up the driveway and trudge toward the front door.  There is a huge package, a giant box of something, on my front step.  I don't remember ordering anything.  Too bad.  Shopping would be done!  Alas, it's for my neighbor in the adjoining townhouse.  It's not too heavy, so I haul it over and gently knock on the door (the dad works third shift and sleeps during the day, which is why we're a good match up for side-by-side: I'm quiet and so are they. 

When I return from my short errand, I notice a bag hanging off my door knob that I hadn't noticed before.  Crap, is this also for the neighbors?  I hate to have to knock twice and be a pest.  I peer inside.  Nope, it's for me.  It really is for me!

Cupcakes!  Santa hat cupcakes. 

I open the accompanying card and discover that a friend from out of town who works nearby has delivered this delicious gift to me with a card that reads, "Hope your week gets better!"  There are a few more lines as equally wonderful and welcome.

This simple gesture lifts the burden of crappiness that has been my life as of late, and it's not just because some of the cupcakes are chocolate (or, for that matter, that they are vanilla -- YUM to both).  It reminds me why I am friends with the people I consider friends.  It's friends like this who randomly stop by the house and leave me mysterious gifts of joy.

I would like to hope that I do for my friends all the wonderful things they do for me.  I hope I'm not just a consumer.  I'm going to look into this.

In the meantime, thanks to my friends who leave me cupcakes, who take me for frozen yogurt, who help me feel good about myself when I don't want to or deserve to, who know how to pop the cork on champagne bottles, who are willing to spot me some cash when I'm short, who don't laugh at me when I get trivia questions so wrong that I look like a blithering idiot, who take me to Bruins games, who email me just because, who share my twisted taste in literature, who like the same wide range of music I do, who defend me when I'm thrown off blogs (including my own - that was classic), who recognize Senor Ed when they see him, who give me shoe ornaments because of our mutual DSW addiction, who may or may not be related to me by blood, who agree to get pictures taken with a giant plastic horse at the brewery, who make me want to buy and wear Depends because they make me laugh so hard and so loud and so completely that I nearly pee my pants sometimes.

I could go on and on because I do have the best friends in the entire world, and that's just the tip of the Santa hat frosting.

My friends rock.  Totally and completely rock.  I just wanted to make sure I acknowledge you properly.  I could (and would) never do this without you.