So I don’t know how your Valentine’s Day (or
Singles Awareness Day as the Facebooks are reporting), started, but mine
started out rough.
Jim and I basically screamed at each other
all the way into work because we were both annoyed with the clusterf*ck that
was the discount hysterectomy office err, The Humane Society, where he took
Lula this AM. We pulled up to my office, I got out, he looked the other
direction, I slammed the door and stormed up to the tenth floor, late, because
of said clusterf*ck.
As I tried, desperately to move from
relationship suicide to Legal Secretary mode, the following ideas of things to
passive aggressively email to Jim ran through my mind (per usual, they go from
irrational to, less irrational):
1. why don’t you f*ck off, pissy pants
2. yeah, I’m going to have to bail on dinner,
I have math homework
3. there’s a card on the counter for you, it
describes how I felt about you yesterday
4. (assuming/hoping I received flowers today)
are these ‘I’m sorry’ flowers? No? Click.
But before any of that actually came to
fruition, Jim contacted me, called a truce, and I remembered how desperately in
love with this man I am. That’s the beauty of love and commitment. You can hate
someone's guts and know you’d die without them all at the same time! And it’s
completely normal and sane!
Right?
