I hate Valentine’s Day. I think I always have. I just don’t care for it. It’s a holiday to spend a little extra on that one special person, just to show you care. Shouldn’t you do that everyday? Shouldn’t you say, “hey love, here’s some flowers, just because it’s Wednesday”?
I think that’s what love is. Showing someone you care on the days that you don’t have to.
Today was lovely, though.
Mom took us to get pedicures and out for lunch. I skyped with Jill for the first time in ages. Worked with Chantal for a bit. Cooked dinner and baked cookies. Took a hot shower. And now, my sister is over doing homework while I’m blogging. Then, I’m going to do some reading for class before Hannah gets into town.
I’d say it was a rather lovely day, all things considered.
I wasn’t necessarily dreading today, but I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it, either. I just didn’t care much for it. Today could have passed us by without a second glance and I wouldn’t have even noticed.
Why? Maybe I’m cynical. Maybe it’s because I don’t have anyone to buy that super-sized, overly priced Hershey’s kiss and the mushy five-dollar Hallmark card for. Maybe it’s because, while I would like to think I do, I don’t really know what love is.