After a cold January, it’s nice to see a warm ball of sun appear in the sky and rid of us our sweaters and rag socks, even if it’s just for a minute. My wrists and ankles have been exposed to the elements and I even had my sunroof open. I was innocently driving around town, enjoying the weather, when I smelled it.
Love.
Love is in the air.
Valentine’s Day is near.
No Necco candy hearts this year.
I do not care…
Kidding. I do.
Candy.
And there’s your daily dose of bad poetry.
I like Valentine’s Day. I like candy, and pink, and flowers. Extremely rarely has it been the case I’ve had a valentine of my own that was NOT the two humans I spawned from. Last year they left chocolates and flowers on the table in my foyer. It was really sweet, though I knew my dad was trying to take care of his overly-sensitive maiden daughter after his late class so he could get home in time to see my mother, who probably reminded him that morning what kind of chocolates I would want, and had picked out a card for me days earlier. They probably waffled between a cat card and a penguin card until they decided on the cat card, signed it, even from Sparkle and Zoe, sealed it, and stashed it in Dad’s briefcase.
Deep breaths, guys, I, too, am exhausted typing out how high-strung I am.
I have never pretended to be a low maintenance person. If your idea of a good time is playing games on your phone for an hour and ten minutes until your special lady teeters downstairs, glammed up and ready to hit one of a small selection of acceptable restaurants, which includes both Scott’s Downtown but also Waffle House, we may be a perfect match. And no, it’s never been said to me outright but I know my flair for the dramatic and need to set the stage has played a part in the week-before-Valentine’s break-ups.
But like I said, I like Valentine’s Day. I really like to send people cards, but I usually only get a card back from the same three people. No worries, I just like sending cards, it’s not really about getting one back. That reminds me, I have to buy cards. And stamps. Ain’t going nowhere without a stamp.
One time, in grade school, we made paper plate envelopes for our cards and candy. The only rule was if you chose to bring Valentine Cards, you must bring one for everyone. This was not a good year for me (ok, none of the grade school years were really good years) but I still brought Valentines for everyone. And yes, I was told at recess that someone purposely did not bring class Valentines because they didn’t want to give me one.
I mean, I’ve got plenty of reasons to hate Valentine’s Day. For starters, I am an old maid/spinster/scary witch lady that it turns out has a heart of gold at the end of the movie/cat lady extraordinaire and for the most part am pretty much fine being by myself, except when I have to go out in throngs of people. The good news about alone-ness is that you never have to beg another person to leave the party and no one ever tells you that you don’t eat like a lady and no one ever laments that your nervous habits are exhausting or that your peculiar food choices are embarrassing. Actually, a “gentleman” won’t tell you that to your face, anyway, the ones who have claimed that title to me just complain to their mothers ad nauseam about things I can’t really control that bother them. That includes everything from my aforementioned diet, to my distaste for driving, to the fact I can be kind of morbid. Not sure what to do about the first two, but for the last one, I blame the #NewsLyfe and too many cable news programs as a kid.
I like Valentine’s Day anyway. Even when my date tells me with a mouthful of clearly-instant mashed potatoes that I’d be prettier if I just didn’t try so hard and that maybe I should try wearing Goodwill sweatpants and other people’s t-shirts and I’d feel more confident. And even though I shudder and realize my date doesn’t know anything about me at all during that dinner time conversation, I still enjoy a good Valentine’s Day date. It’s tough to get a date for Valentine’s when you become a hermit, but I’ve mastered the selection process.
If you haven't already, head to an animal shelter and try adopting one. If you're approved, maybe grab a second one while you're there. Now you have two forever!
Ok sure, Cairo was kind of a blind date, a surprise visitor that became permanent family member who I am currently begging to get OFF THE COUNTER!!!! He’s been My Fuzzy Valentine before, but this year we have Smidge as well. And this is her first Valentine’s Day!
Well, we think.
I doubt Smidge ever has experienced a Valentine before. Cairo has gotten the light version of Valentine’s Day because he’s a cat, so I’m going to do it up this year. My pets will get a new toy for a gift, a special treat, and Mama’s getting a vase of flowers for herself. Pink ones. Everything will be pink because I like pink the best and also my pets are colorblind.
I will gleefully video them eating their treats and we’ll post half-posed pictures on social media. We will try and get a posed picture for the Grandmas and maybe myself. I already made a cover photo for my Facebook profile, next step: coordinating outfits.
Regardless of the stereotypes of cats and dogs, my pets show me as much love as my dearest inner circle. They make sure I am up every morning and they allow me to rest warmly at night. They always want to see me and Cairo even greets me at the door. Whenever I am at home, they are next to me. Whenever I am sad, there are two cold, wet noses and two textures of pink tongues to wick the tears from my skin until I laugh both the tears and the pets away. When I am happy, they run and jump alongside me.
I do need human interaction, that’s true. But maybe I don’t need it on February 14. Maybe instead I can just think about how lucky I am to have rescued not one but two perfect matches.
