Happy Valentine’s Day.
Hopefully you’re not standing in those long lines everywhere, doing the last-minute-gift thing. Or standing in the middle of WalMart tearing your hair out because you can’t find the right box of chocolates (because there are none left) or the right romantic CD (because they’re remodeling the danged electronics area and you can’t find a freaking thing anyway.) And I especially hope you’re not the guy I saw in the grocery store, on his knees, pleading with his 3 year old “Please tell me what Mommy said she wants…”
This kid had his finger up his nose, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the hint Mommy must have dropped.
I am going to spend my Valentine’s Day saying bad words to my work computer, which has decided it will not play nice with the Internet (yay for the laptop as a backup, even though parts of it died a long time ago), listening to CDs (yay Steve Miller Band and Bowling For Soup) and fighting with the cat over the flowers the Spouse Thingy sent me (yay for brain dense kitties that think if it’s green, it must be edible.)
The Spouse Thingy is the late guy at work today, which means I may not see him until 8 p.m. or so, but that’s okay, since there’s no way I’d want to fight the crowds at a restaurant tonight. He has Wednesday off; he can take me out for a killer pizza or to Burger City for the World’s Best Tri-Tip Dip ever created (you know it’s good when the first time you try it, you take a bite and moan “ohmygawwwwwwd!”)