So I'm standing at Walgreens the other day ... perusing the Hallmark aisle. I was looking for several cards ... one for my mom's birthday ... another for Stoney's dad's birthday ... another for our friend's housewarming. And I noticed the large (large) section of Valentine's Day cards.
Technically, I still have several unused Valentine's Day cards at my house ... ones that I bought for Stoney then decided not to use. The first year was extremely hard on me ... I think I ended up buying three cards. One was too romantic. One wasn't romantic enough. One was, as Goldilocks would say, just right. The next year, true to form, I bought two or three ... and jumped through the same mental hoops ... is this too wordy ... this one is too funny ... this one isn't wordy enough.
Okay. Yes ... I over think things. Yes ... I put way too much thought into a damned card.
Our first Valentine's, there was almost no writing on my card ... although I put a lot of thought into his gift. Last year there was more writing. I guess I was a little more secure in the whole thing. This year, I'm once again pressuring myself to find the perfect card.
So ... back to Walgreens. I stood there ... picking each one up ... reading it ... then discarding it.
"Dear Valentine ... although we've been married for twenty years ..."
"Dearest Valentine ... even though we've cried a lot this year ..."
Hmmm ... no.
"To my outdoorsman who loves hunting ..."
"To the greatest husband and dad ..."
Well, we do have a fish ...
This went on for twenty or thirty minutes. I finally walked away without buying one.
I do need to go back before they're picked over ... but I decided I needed to be more relaxed. I won't be spending much on Valentine's this year ... we need to save for a new roof. But damnit ... I want the card to be just right.
Is everyone this neurotic about something as silly as a card?
Of the band, but they're good
Would you like to dance?
Yeah, I like this song too,
It reminds me of you and me, baby
Do you think there's a chance
That later on I could drive you home?
No, I don't mind at all
Oh, I like you too
And to tell you the truth
That wasn't my chair after all