It goes without saying that The Neighbors Will Hear is all about the drippy romance. In fact, I'm so down with the notion of a holiday manufactured by Hallmark and the florists (And would that not be the BEST NAME EVER for a girl group?) to celebrate unattainable ideals of romance that I waited until the day after to write about it. So that my voice could be heard above the crowd, you understand.
When you're as hopelessly romantic as I am, you can't help feeling a little sorry for all of those female co-workers who do the walk of fame up to the reception area to get the flowers sent to them by their significant others. If you need flowers as an outward manifestation of your love, well, then there's clearly something missing on the inside. I, on the other hand, celebrate Valentine's Day the way it was meant to be celebrated: by going to the drug store on February 15th to grab as much half-off chocolate as I can. I'm particularly partial to the red and white m&ms (plain and almond) because red and white are the colors of passion. And the Boston Red Sox.
B&c feels pretty much the same way I do. Because we're always the sort couple that's so lovey dovey and cloyingly sweet that people almost can't stand to be around us, there's no point in making an extra effort on V-Day. Still, this year he's out of the country, doing some consulting in Haiti, so I figured an extra effort was in order. I hesitate to publish the intimate details of our personal correspondence lest my readers feel inadequate in their inability to match our displays of affection, but, well, here's what I sent yesterday.
Still alive and not kidnapped? Happy Valentine's Day.
ps My girl Donna Edwards kicked your boy Al Wynn's asssss in the primary
Naturally, I soon received an equally gloppy reply:
Still safe. Haven't left the green zone. Gotta run: there's a scandinavian UN guard who's going to let me play with his blue helmet.
ps Nobody likes a bad winner.
And just in case any further evidence were needed, this morning I saw that my IRS refund had hit my bank account, and instead of immediately moving it to my ING savings account, I left it in checking so that it could be immediately accessed if I need to pay ransom. It's not that much money, but it's about ten times the average annual per capita income in Haiti, so I reckon it'll be enough. I just hope the kidnappers are set up to receive electronic payments: if those bastards think I'm going to the trouble of writing and mailing a check, they've got another think coming.