Happy St. Skeletor's Day
I'll just copy and paste from Tricia's LJ, because going on about it here is stupid:
"I ran my ass off for a bunch of thoughtless pigs at work, then came home to my husband as our arrangement was we were making each other dinner as our Valentine's Day gift to each other. I was stressed from work and trying to make sure his dinner didn't burn so we cracked open the wine I bought for the occasion early. Well, let's just say it hit me ALOT harder than I expected it to. I spent the evening flat on my ass drunk. WASTED. I have never been so drunk in my life. He was arrgrovated. I ruined the evening. He drank coffee too late and couldn't go to sleep, I was disoriented and half-asleep. We laid in bed fighting with each other at four-fucking o'clock in the morning.
This morning was better, we had some nice make-up sex, but my head feels about twice it's size and I picked up a long shift today. Which I'm almost glad of."
So that was Valentine's Day. Of course, she neglected to mention the romantic dinner we had when the lights were turned down low and had music on.
Is Valentine's Day overrated? I'm starting to think so.
On the issue of Tricia getting drunk. The fact of the matter is that she bugs the hell out of me when she gets drunk. She slurs her speech, wobbles, and asks me stupid questions that I can't stand when she's sober ("why did you pick me?" "do you love me?" "why do you love me?" --- argh; it's been 8.5 years, I don't think I need to answer these!). And I wouldn't have minded the drunkeness had it been, say, St. Patrick's Day or Halloween. But Valentine's Day? Ugh.
So we'll probably have to talk about it, despite trying to put it behind us.
Things still suck.
Anyways, I'm having coffee with Danny this afternoon, who was dumped on the day before Valentine's Day/Friday the 13th.
~W~
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