Wednesday, February 15, 2006

In the Wake of the Flow of Blood-Pumping Organs

Well, Greg Valentine's Day went swimmingly yesterday. It was the first chance I had to do some card shopping, which became an imperative after my wife presented me with a (not really) heart-shaped box of chocolates at breakfast. Conscience vexed me; I could not partake of the sweetmeats before the conclusion of a satisfactory exchange.

So, while ostensibly going out on a grocery run, I picked up her favorite candy along with a Valentine card (plus a card for each of my daughters).

It was a Kodak moment, and of course I left my camera at home. I didn't feel like such a loser for doing my last minute Valentine's shopping in a supermarket. Dozens of sad-face men stood in checkout lines, or wandered around the store, or leaned nervously over the special gift table. They all had one thing in common: Each guy was carrying a single long-stemmed rose for his wife or sweetheart (or possibly both). Each one looked like he was trying very hard not to be seen, and hung his head in shame. If they had bothered to look up, they would have found a room full of kindred spirits. The scene could have turned into a jovial, spirited support group of last-minute rose buyers.

But not these guys. They were truly men-of-shame.

It convinced me to skip the flowers. For now. The ladies love it when you get them flowers when they least expect it. What's the big deal about getting flowers on Greg Valentine's Day? I'm waiting until April Fools Day. Heh heh.

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