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Romantic Exhaustion

On Valentine’s Day, I ate a frozen pizza and went to bed at 8:40pm.

There was just too much romance during the day for me to handle.   Picture Leo and Kate, bodies pressed together, flying at the bow of the Titanic… for twelve hours straight.  That’s how romantically exhausting my day was.

First of all, the girl at the Starbucks drive thru was really nice and gave me a warmed cinnamon roll in a box with a fork and napkin. (In exchange for money).

Then I got in an elevator with a young Fed-Ex guy, who seemed intent on staring at his First Class envelope.  Until suddenly he peered up at me from under that brown visor, and said, voice drenched in innuendo, “So how’s your Valentine’s Day going?”  I immediately burst into laughter, then walked out.

The second time I got in the elevator, two older men invited me to come with them to Jimmy’s.  I don’t know a Jimmy.

The third time I got in that same elevator, I had a repeat of the Fed-Ex incident. Only without the visor.

Apparently the elevator = the love box.

Later on, in First Aid certification class, I got to put a middle aged man into a sling.  I wrapped bandages around his wrist.  He looked at me skeptically from under bushy eyebrows.

I then went to Trader Joe’s… need I say more?  Walking into that store is like walking into something by Jane Austen.

I spent the rest of the evening texting people “Happy Valentine’s Day” ironically while drinking ginger tea.  Not sure whether they got the irony.

Also I hate ginger.

Holiday Hobbies for Idle Moms

Namely, home decorations.

I tutor this kid whose entire house transformed entirely over the week after Thanksgiving.  And by transformed, I don’t mean from a normal, home-themed house to a Christmas-themed house, I mean from a Pilgrim wonderland to a Christmas wonderland. Wonderland to wonderland.

It was like walking into Ikea, if Ikea were owned by Santa.

I think the mother (who shall remain nameless) even changed the clocks on the walls… because instead of normal hands, there were candy canes.

It just led me to wonder… where does she store all this stuff?  Is there an entire room full of boxes organized by month of the year?  How long does it take her to swap out the pumpkins and pilgrims and gourds and tapestries of cornucopias for the nutcrackers and wreaths and pudgy dolls and bowls of red and green M&Ms?

Does the house ever just look like a house?

It must get tiring, swapping box after box of the same decorations, year by year, taking down Cupids and putting up Shamrocks, taking down cobwebs and putting up… probably something appropriate for Veteran’s Day.   A thankless job.

Is there a box in storage, placed between Easter and Cinco de Mayo, marked “In-Between Holidays” that just has regular clocks, something beige from Pottery Barn, and maybe a flag bearing the crest of her and her husband’s alma mater?

All I know is, the extent of our family’s decorations is a menorah someone made in 2nd grade, dangly lights – half of which are broken – and some Sees peanut brittle in the fridge.  Oh, and someone got a tree, I think.

This isn't her house. But maybe one day.
This isn’t her house. But maybe one day.