I figured out why some human in the past created Valentine’s Day in the middle of February.
Because, like my plant, we’re all just barely hanging on.
We’re alive, but we are having to let go of some pieces of ourselves in order to say we are even “okay” or “fine,” the two most dangerous words in a woman’s vocabulary for men.
Spring is coming, but it’s too far away; the cold and dreary days are taking a toll.
Commitments are overwhelming and exhausting, but we are already starting to talk about next fall. Side note: no and stop it.
We are running out of patience with each other and ourselves, and the sunshine isn’t strong enough for us to get outside and soak in some Vitamin D so we can at least attempt to fix our attitudes.
I genuinely think anyone who loves the month of February is lying to themselves and the world . . . no offense.
February has sucked for generations, so genius people in the past created this holiday to force society to show our love and appreciation for one another . . . or else.
I mean, I get it. If February didn’t tell me I have to, I would have no interest in getting off my couch, putting makeup on, or noticing how fortunate I am to have a hot hubby and cute kids.
Flowers, chocolates, and a dinner out? Fine. If I have to.
So thanks, Valentine’s Day, for forcing us to fight a little harder for our relationships this time of year.
But I’m only gonna do it to put up a photo on Facebook that I did it, and I’m not gonna do it with all my energy . . . cause I don’t have much. And even if I do enjoy myself, I’m not gonna give you, Valentine’s Day, any credit.
I’m still gonna complain, but I’ll try and tone it down for 24 hours.