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.