Happy Valentine's Day, that most romantic of all romantic holidays. It's the day that reminds me I'd better start thinking about this year's Peeps scenes now, because Easter's already set to replace all the VD merchandise with the return of those not-quite-edible marshmallow Peeps I so love using in dramatic ways.
I know 'tis true because I saw it with mine own baby blues this morning. Yes, that's right. I didn't get out to purchase VD paraphernalia until today, and the dude who works on shelving holiday stuff at our local Walgreen's had already started shifting down the VD merchandise to make room for the bunnies. I'm just glad I wasn't the only person there with that hunted, oh, crap, I have to grab chocolate before he snatches it away! look. I was not the only one late to this particular party.
To my credit, I have a good reason for my tardiness. Namely, my knee. My horribly painful, teeth-grittingly aching, damaged knee. The one orthopaedic doctor number one thought was no big deal, causing me to volley back a suck it by switching to another doctor in his practice.
Yep, that knee.
I blame it all on yesterday. I had to take my daughter dress shopping in the early afternoon. She had a school-wide pops concert (SEE: Agony, Three Hour), and needed something to wear which would also suffice in case the Queen of England called and inquired if she were free for tea, though at the beginning of the school year they already had us purchase formal gowns for symphony orchestra performances to save we parents from this very thing. Good thing I didn't have any plans for that hundred dollars. Thanks very little, Mr. Orchestra Teacher.
And this relates to my late VD shopping because the walk in the shopping mall made my knee so sore I had to retreat to bed afterward, until time to leave for the concert (SEE: Wooden Bleachers, Ass-Numbing). So there was no way in chocolate-covered Hades I could go back out and do anything yesterday, even shop for confections.
But I am very proud of myself for taking care of it this morning after eight hours sleep, two pain pills, a couple anti-inflammatories and two ginormous glucosamine-chondroitin horse pills. That bought me long enough to get out to one store and back. Then I had my recovery nap, from which I sprang up like a saucy 80-year old.
Paul gets full points for abiding by his husbandly VD duties with flowers, card and candy, also graciously understanding why his gifts weren't forthcoming earlier in the day. That was so kind I won't mention his embarrassment half the flowers in my bouquet died overnight in the fridge, and what I wound up with were a few very hearty, but lonely, flowers. I would have thought he'd been gypped if I hadn't seen the dead flora in the garbage can. And, though I thought it was funny, I refrained from photographing the dead flowers – which made up more than half the bouquet. It is pretty damn hilarious, if you think about it.
On a related note: did you know it's pretty much impossible to kill "baby's breath"? I'm not positive it's actually an organic substance.
Time to go throw some ice on my ailing knee, so I must leave you now. Parting is such, etc., etc. Have a day.