I’ve been out of commission for the last few days, sick with a case of Sinusitis. So I didn’t quite realize what day was approaching until I got back to work today.
The day started off fairly normal. I sat at my desk, went through my email, and started on that day’s projects.
Then my co-worker and I went to get lunch. No big deal.
When we got back, there were little pink cellophane sacks of candy on our desks.
“Oh great,” I said, realizing what day was coming. “Valentine’s Day.”
That’s right, folks. I hate Valentine’s Day.
I hate it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
I hate it more than I hate winter… and believe me, I’m hating winter pretty hard right about now.
I hate it more than a hangnail.
I hate it more than I hate George W. Bush. And that’s an awful lot.
OK maybe not that much.
But you get the point.
I knew what was coming next… the mail carrier would bring in cartons of roses and flowers for all the lovey-dovey people in the office. Ugh Ugh UGH.
The cries of “Oh my GOD! For ME!?!” and “Oh how SWEET!!!!” and “I can’t believe he got me ROSES!” echoed in my brain long before the first FTD box appeared.
And appear they did– three arrangements arrived within the last hour of work. And surely there are many more to come.
Yes, Valentine’s Day sucks. It sucks for the single people of the world. It sucks for the lonely people of the world. It exists to remind those of us in that pathetic category just how pathetic we are. And serves to remind us how sickeningly sweetly happy the married and otherwise occupied people of the world are.
It reminds us of how much we want to bitch-slap all those gooey-happy-lovey people in the face with a glove full of coal.
What, me? Bitter?
Yeah.. what’s it to ya?