Zombie

Today is my day off, and I am supposed to be doing real, grown-up things, like scrubbing kitchen counters fastiduosly and planning heart-healthy-meal-grocery shopping lists.

Instead, I've slept in until nearly 11a.m. and can't remember what I'm supposed to do today other than a) go to a dermatology appointment later on this afternoon to have my suspicious mole looked at. Yawn.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. I worked a twelve hour shift, came home exhausted, and presented my husband with a granola bar--yes, still in the package-- I'd nicked off a plate in the nurses' bubble (lounge is much too luxuious a word for that room). He responded by saying, "Oh shit! I forgot the flowers at work!" Then we both ate our granola bars in exhausted silence, and went to sleep.

And that was pretty much married Valentine's Day #1.

Last year we went to New York, walked around in the miserable stinging cold rain, caught pneumonia, ate Chinese food we could have eaten in Anywhere, USA in a claustrophic basement restaurant, and then took the train home. I also got a dozen roses.

But you see, that was before we were married. Now it's all work, work, work and sleep is one of the best free entertainment/gift in the whole wide world.

I do admit to feeling slighted by Valentine's Day in the past, as it was basically my parents who sent me Valentine's day cards and chocolate. Now that I have Ibrahim, one stupid little day isn't a whole lot. We give each other little gifts all the time. Not big gifts, not signficant things, more like something funny or silly or trite.

Ibrahim, incidentally, is much better at giving gifts than I am; he recently bought me a Swatch with an inside-joke-theme (it's a long story). So he actually did buy me a Valentine's gift, whereas my gift was working two twelve hour shifts back to back and coming home cranky and tired.

My gift wins.