Last night I had an unexpected night out. I hadn't known I would be getting out for some time with friends. I remembered the plans late in the day and wasn't sure I would be able to swing it. It was unexpected, but happily it worked out.
I also didn't expect that my husband would take the occasion to make caramel apples for the boys while I was gone, but he did. There they were in all their sticky and potentially disastrous glory lined up on a baking sheet with their sticks upright like so many caramel bombs ticking. They were unexpected, but there they were.
I fully expected a messy kitchen when I came home, but it didn't happen. Counters were smooth to the touch as I ran my hands over them and floors showed no sign of caramel drippings. I saw no dishes or abandoned clothing. Everything was pretty much as I had left it. This was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
But the story isn't over.
This morning, I encountered the unexpected again in the form of a half eaten caramel apple in the hamper entwined in shirts and underwear. Unexpected? Yes. Pleasant? No.