Which is a huge improvement on how I used to feel about what is certainly The Most Exclusionary Holiday Of All Time.
...and then she paused to think.
Wait! Maybe it's not THE most exclusionary holiday. If you think about it, most holidays exclude someone.
Religious holidays exclude those of other religions. National holidays exclude those of other nations. Couple holidays exclude those of us who aren't coupled. (Just like couple dinners and couple vacations. Come to think of it, it's all just more of the same.)
I'm less bothered by all the rest of the coupley stuff these days, so I suppose it makes sense that I'm less bothered by Valentine's Day.
Or maybe I'm just dead inside.
It's hard to say.
At the moment, I'm muddling through my sixth illness of the season (five colds, one flu), and a weekend in bed isn't the best thing for the old emotional well-bring.
Not that I don't LOVE it when I'm (barely) standing in my kitchen, wishing I had mac and cheese because it's the only thing that will make me feel better about the fact that I can't actually really BREATHE, but my legs are too buckly and my mind is too cloudy for me to, oh, DRIVE SAFELY to the Vonn's four blocks away, and putting a humidifier together feels literally like rocket science and every move I make results in something falling and breaking, and that's a bitch when you have two dogs who don't understand English words like "FREEZE! DANGEROUS GLASS SHARDS UNDERFOOT!"
It wasn't that bad, really. Although I did, in my sick-induced clumsiness, break things.
Yeah, okay, it was that bad.
But no paws were injured in the making of this blog post. My dogs are, when it suits them, very well trained in the sit-and-stay department, and they waited politely while I swept. And bitched incoherently.
And I wonder why I'm still single.