Maybe it’s my age, but I’m tired of the Valentine holiday. In my 34 years of living and celebrating the aortic tradition, I can only remember really enjoying a few. As a kid, I never won any “valentine box decorating contests” so I’m scarred for life. I’m a little more perterbured this year because now that all five kids are in school, I get to make valentines for each child and their classmates. That’s 140 valentines! ONE-HUNDRED-AND-FORTY. If I pace myself I can do 30 a day and make my goal by nightfall. No stickers, no candy attachments, just straight ‘tines.
When you stop and think about it, the whole concept of Valentines Day is almost Huxley- an. The ‘state’ mandates when we should recognize those that we “love.” We should do it this day, every year. It should involve hearts, roses and candy. (Oh, but I do love those little conversational hearts; yeah, I like those). When the day is over, if you haven’t done something for your loved one, you’re a LOUT! You have a time limit for cryin’ out loud. Don’t do it on Feb. 13, because that ruins the anticipation. Don’t do it on Feb. 15, because everyone knows that you’re just waiting to scour the clearance racks for a good deal, cheap skate.
Why must there be roses? I know, some people like roses. But why? I don’t like the pressure put on my husband to buy me roses on Valentine’s Day. Roses come to my house and begin wilting as soon as they cross the threshold. The little buds have already said their good-byes and made peace with the fact that their end is near. My house is like a botanical gas chamber. I kill flowers. If I can’t wear it, eat it, or drive it, then it just isn’t practical.
Frankly, I’d rather him spend the same $60 on something I could really use. Like cheesecake.
I declare from now on Valentine’s Day should be proclaimed as the day we were set free from the state ordained passion holidays. No Valentine’s Day, no Sweetest Day, no Groundhog Day, wait, that’s not related. If you’re guilted into gifting, then it’s not worth celebrating.
If you love something, set it free, if it comes back to you, it got lost. Let it go again.
1 comment:
funny stuff,obviously you're a gifted writer. You must get it from your perfect mother.
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