Bad Valentine


On the morning of February 14th, I rolled over, looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Are you going to be a good Valentine or bad Valentine this year?”  After a brief, vacant stare, he closed his eyes, buried his head into the pillow and was back to snoring in a matter of seconds. Ignoring me seemed to be our new morning routine and gone were the days when we used to cuddle before work. My recent early work schedule had me leaving the apartment while it was still dark, so most mornings I just kissed him on the head and whispered goodbye.

My work day consisted of several interruptions from the local florist, who brought bouquets of roses for the giggling girls in the back office. I spent much of the morning trying to ignore their constant bragging about gifts and romantic plans for that evening.  As that snooty girl from Accounting passed my desk after lunch, she sarcastically wondered out loud, what my Valentine would be giving me this year. I smirked in response, but secretly wondered the same thing. Apparently everyone seemed to know about the “gift” I received last year.  I spent the remainder of the day hidden in the conference room trying to avoid Valentine’s Day altogether.

As I arrived home, I paused at the door wondering what would be waiting on the other side.  A nice kiss would be welcoming. As I put my key into the lock, I could hear my Valentine hurrying toward the door.  Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open only to find him standing in front of me with my favorite pair of Louboutin shoes in his mouth.  I dropped my keys, and yelled, “Bad Valentine!  You are a naughty, naughty dog.”

 

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