So on the East Coast it isn’t February 14th.

Maybe I am safe, now.

The 2/14 holiday is that which shall not be named. In our house, anyway. I figured if we ignored it, the Grim Cupid, with his tetanus-tainted arrows, would avoid our house.

Well, it was a nice thought, anyway.

See, J and I were married in December of 03. That first February 14 was good. So uneventful, I can’t even remember it.

The following year, my mom had been in the hospital, and apparently
I picked up a really nasty gastro bug. Of course, it didn’t make itself apparent until romance time, which is when I hauled boogie to the can and tossed dinner. Nice, right?

The following year, we were veggin’ in the hot tub, and J came back outside to put the cover on the tub and slipped on the frozen foot prints the water had left on the deck. He laid his hand open, and we ended up spending romance time in the ER, getting his hand stitched up where he’d split it.

The following year one of us was getting ready for surgery (him).

The year after that, I had pneumonia.

The following two years I was down with the flu.

We finally got a clue and ignored the holiday.

That worked for all of about a year.

This year it was drama.

All I can say is this: since ignoring it won’t make it go away, I hope for flowers next year on the holiday that shall not be named….