For the year 2003, let today hereafter be known as rescheduled V-day.

irony … meow?

A while back I set myself (up the bomb) with a daily emailed de-motivational message, designed to invoke anger and ruin my generally healthy appetite with a desire to be thin… it is of course just a reality check telling me that men don’t love chubby-chicks.

Is it ironic that a moment after arranging my (HUGE, btw – dunno how to get this home) flower delivery and sitting back to admire them, that I should get the email notification telling me my reminder is here. Seeing that I’m still a chubby-chick, though I did go buy a size smaller pants yesterday, it was ironic to me that somebody apparently does love me enough to even send me the exact freaking arrangement I was eyeballing when I was looking at flowers for mom.

Anyway.. I’m not gonna cry over it this year. I already knew I was lucky, and I’m just going to be thankful. We’re far from perfect together, but aren’t the differences fun. He makes me want to be a better me even when he makes me feel great about the me I am. Dunno how you do that, baby. Oh, and fyi, dear, I couldn’t bring myself to get you a valentine from the cat, even though they make them. I mean, that slut is torn between your lap and Jimmy’s anyway, so i’d have to get him a card, too.

Can’t think.. the smell of flowers is overwhelming. I should have brought my camera to work. Speaking of.. I’d better get back to it. The reworks don’t stop because my mind is elsewhere.