I've been trying to think of something to write about, but this week has been so -- what's the word -- boring that I've come up empty handed. Just nothing.
I guess I'll have to write about Valentine's Day. Or, rather, my expectations of Valentine's Day.
Let's see. I did manage to buy P a Valentine's Day present. A Ralph Lauren Polo shirt. He covets Lauren polo shirts. Says they're the very best and loves them. Okie dokie. One polo shirt coming up. I even had it gift wrapped in very festive wrapping paper with gold and red ribbon and a plastic gold bauble heart hanging from it. And I got him a card from me and one from B too. I pay attention when he says he wants (or needs) something, and jump on it when given the chance to present said item as a gift. He gets something he wants/needs and I score points for getting it for him. Win/win.
I, myself, am semi-concerned that P will see the lovely package on the seat of his car in the morning when he leaves for work, realize he forgot to get something for me, and will have to stop at the 7 Eleven on his way home to pick me up a fake rose and a Hershey bar.
I'd rather have an IOU, frankly. I hate the thought of him stressing out and trying to pull something out at the last minute.
Don't get me wrong. My feelings will definitely be bruised a little if he has forgotten Valentine's Day. After all, it is the anniverary of our engagement, so it's not like it's a meaningless commercial holiday for the masses that holds nothing special for us in particular. Quite the opposite.
My biggest fear is that it will be an after-thought. P is not the planner that I am. I forgive him for this flaw. I just wish that on this one day, he would think ahead just a little, because it's important to me.
Yes, it's silly to place any amount of significance on one day of the year, but I do, so sue me.
Maybe he will surprise me and I will have a lovely romantic story to report on Friday.
We shall see.
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