Home Sweet Housemate

My housemate, Verity, is so sweet.  When I met her, just over a year ago, it was with the usual pessimistic sense of disillusion that only flat-hunting (and, as I was reminded this very weekend, bra-shopping) can induce in an otherwise optimistic, worse-things-happen-at-sea sort of person such as your gracious host on this here blog.  I'll be honest, I was expecting the worst - you always do when searching for new flatmates - Shallow Grave, Single White Female, you know the drill.  But as she was showing me around the (spacious, perfectly-located, and ridiculously cheap) flat, I could hardly believe my luck - not only was the flat amazing, but she was just so nice.  She bought me flowers when I moved in.  She owns an art gallery.  She hosts pottery parties for her birthday.  Just this weekend, she proposed that we host a Halloween party this year (hell yeah!) and we both got carried away deciding on a theme (Pet Cemetery seems to be the running favourite), decorations (cobwebs made from leftover knitting yarn), and food (my infamous Zombie Muffins may have to put in an appearance) and I observed that we are both the sort of lady who hosts parties mainly so that she can bake stuff and decorate the flat.  I think that says a lot about why we get along so well.

Anyway, a couple of evenings ago, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my [bedroom] door.  I opened it to find this outside:

Verity had been baking Apple Pie Spiced cookies, and she saved some for me:

In a hand-decorated bag, no less.  Just because.  There were two, but I made swift work of the first one before realising that they were indeed quite a blog-worthy gift, so I ought to document the occasion.