On the kids’ programs, they don’t always call it Valentine’s Day. Sometimes they call it, “I Love You” Day.
Seriously? Silliness. Call it Hearts And Flowers Day, or Next Week You’ll Need A Dentist Day, or Bitter Singles’ Day, or How Much Are You Prepared To Grovel When You Forget About Me Day if you must, but it all boils down to the same idea.
Specifically, everyone does whatever the hell they want. And I am totally fine with that.
It just so happens that instead of buying even more chocolate (we have a potty-training child in the house; our hiding places overfloweth with candy), my husband went the cheesy route and got me a funny card and a wee white bear. It’s cheesy, but it’s cute, and I like stuffed animals. Just ask the Podling, who has inherited a number of stuffies that I couldn’t part with even after college. (Nyte would have gotten flowers, but the damned cat eats them, and we don’t want that $20 bouquet to turn into a $500 vet visit. Also, if you can figure out a place where Fezzik can’t reach, let me know. So far we have the dryer and the fridge, and that’s it.)
I had a particularly good day. I made oatmeal with walnuts, blueberries, raspberries, and a splash of maple syrup, and started reading a self-help book on my Nook. (On his head he had a hook. On his hook he had a book.) I feel stupid admitting it, but I think…uh…it’s helping. It’s helping me to think about things differently, something I have been trying to do for a long time but have been unable to wrangle my intellect around the problem thus far.
The Peanut was content to stare out the very bright windows for a bit, so I thought I’d do a spot of yoga. That turned into enlisting the Podling’s help to clean up his toys so that I could do my downward-facing-dog without impaling myself on a wooden train track or lodging a puzzle piece in my keister, and that’s when I discovered the Goldfish cracker crumbs right in front of the tv, where I would be doing my yoga. There’s little worse than trying to breathe deeply and feel the universe empowering you while cheesy shards of pain dig into your butt or your bare feet.
Out came the vacuum. Since I was already doing it, I went ahead and vacuumed the rest of the living room. It needed it. Then I did the dining room. Then the hallway. Then I thought it would be a shame to move the couch against the wall for yoga, only to move it right back up against the tv when I wanted to finish cleaning the living room carpet.
One thing lead to another, and the next thing you know I have the laundry going, the dishwasher running, and I was filling up the carpet cleaner with fluid and hot water for a third go-round to finish off the dining room, with the curtains soaking in the bathtub (I even managed to NOT flood the bathroom this time!).
It was like some sort of hausfrau domino effect, and it was glorious. I found time to shower and put on makeup, I aired out the house (it was pretty chilly, but 50F is acceptable for February) while the carpets dried, I put a handknit sweatervest on the Podling (SO CUTE), I fished out a cheery tablecloth for a table that has never seen a cloth and actually put it on, I finished the laundry, and by the time Nyte came home from work, the Podling and I were sitting at the table like some scene from Bizarro Chez Cranky-Face, writing out valentines to send to family. (The Podling especially liked the part where I wrote who it went to and who it was from, and then he signed his name with scribbles like a wee CEO.)
I was in such a good mood, I made lemon leek risotto for dinner and danced around the kitchen to GleeKast (if you don’t know about this, shame on you) over at Accuradio.com.
Given the fog I’ve been in for…uh…years, actually…I don’t know why today was such a good day. I don’t know why it worked, but it did. Today was awesome. I’m sore as hell, and I never actually got around to doing yoga, but it was a good day. I hope tomorrow is just as good.
I hope your Valentine’s Day was good, too. Bone ’em if you got ’em, chickadees.