I love my kitchen. I love being able to wake up, think to myself "I want something sweet and breadlike and fruity" and be able to hunt around my kitchen for a few minutes and come up with orange-almond scones. (They're supposed to be orange-poppyseed, actually, but I have several pounds of almonds to use up, so I'm sticking them in everything.)
Then Dave and I, after some logistical details, managed to go cross-country skiing, which was wonderful. (Partly because he's never xc-skied before, so I could out-ski him, despite the fact that he's in far better shape than I am.) We decided to go back to his place for some hot cocoa, something we'd been meaning to do for a while, but there hadn't been an occasion that felt right.
Then things got a little stressful, since Dave found out upon getting home that his primary email account had been hacked, and the sysadmin for that account had assumed Dave did it, and had to be convinced otherwise. Everything got sorted out, with a little help from Fractal, my sysadmin roommate. But eventually we had cocoa, and then dinner, and managed to successfully pull off the "doing two separate things in Dave's apartment without whining at each other" thing. Which was nice. (I watched part of a quasi-documentary on the Cartoon Network about cartoon retellings of the "Elves and the Shoemaker" fairy tale, while Dave was swapping IM's with PGB/Kojiro.)
An odd moment came at one point when Dave asked me "Why are you so cuddly today?". I had to fight the urge to look at him funny and say "Um, you've known me for four years now. When have I *not* been this cuddly?". But I was able to restrain my cuddly side and turn the evening back to comfortable, which was good. I have no idea why I'm such a cuddleslut. I think I get it from my mother, which is kind of disturbing. My sister is, too -- while I was home for Christmas, Mom, Sis, and I would end up in cuddle-piles on my parents bed most evenings.
Okay, back to work. I'm so tired of programming.