plump with the correctness

I have been having a rather slumped-shoulders week and I think maybe that means I'm ready for fall. It gets to the point when a pair of legs danging from the first floor ceiling is no longer a mood booster. I mean! For a time that was the best thing I'd seen!
But anyhow, I've been just fine this week other than the dragging of my feet. I have grown fond of spaghetti squash, and I have my best friend's wedding dress hanging safely in its pink garment bag in my apartment. Last night by lucky chance I happened to cross paths going different directions with the man I love and he flew to me across the parking lot and picked me up and kissed me as if it'd been months since we'd been together instead of a day and a half. It made me spin. My mother and I finished a 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle we'd been plodding at for thirteen days. And I was putting in the last few puzzle pieces with a mouth full of fresh, juicy blackberries from their neighbor as a thick summer (finally) rain pouring down in the darkness out beyond the dining room windows. The community band concert this week was full of kids' music, of theme songs to superheroes and kazoos and glow sticks. I will never begrudge you your glow sticks. When I got home from work the other day I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed my bathroom floor and mopped the kitchen and emptied the trash and bought a lamp for the side table by the couch, and every time I walk in the door I breathe a sigh of relief, a sigh of this is such a good home.
What I'm saying is, there's just very little wrong. At all. My life is right. Discounting, of course, the all-day work conference I have to go to tomorrow and goddamn money issues and my never ending cycle of heel blisters from all the walking I've been doing. But, I am feeling plump with the correctness of this all.