The "holiday" is generally uneventful for me. It's a fun way to brighten up February, which is otherwise so miserable that we've confiscated two-and-a-quarter days and given them to other months. I might wear pink or eat chocolate candy, but today was particularly useless. I wore the same clothes that I wore yesterday AND in bed. That would be exciting if a hot date was thrown in the mix, but alas, he was not. I wore ugly blue PJs and a wilting white sweater. When I ventured into public, briefly wearing real pants, I pretended to yawn a lot, masking laziness as extreme sleep-deprivation.
But I kept forgetting it was Valentine's Day, too. What other excuse could I have for buying cranberry juice, four boxes of cereal and no chocolates? I did spend the last few weeks looking for a nearby performance of "The Vagina Monologues," but no success in that either.
Not to be entirely excluded from the awkward romantic finagling of Valentine's Day, I almost texted a friend to see if he wants to hang next weekend, but at the last second, I realized it's Feb. 14 and tossed the phone aside. I didn't want to scare him. I'll try again tomorrow. Further self-analysis shows that my fear has further enabled the romantic horror that is Valentine's Day. The terrorists win.
Happy St. Valentine's Day, all. Hope you had a lovely day.
I think UD (univ. of Del?) is putting it on in March. I say this because someone wrote it on Kathleen's facebook.
ReplyDeleteElle went to a reading of The Vagina Monologues at Occupy Wall Street where Eve Ensler read. I would have gone, but I had to work.
ReplyDelete