there i was, happily reading my loan document, when s.b.q. sitting behind my cool l.c.d. monitor says:

"you know, i'm really worried that this year will be the first year i won't get anything on valentine's day."

the mention of the 'v' word, the fact that blondes really do have more fun, the fact that i have never worried about ever getting anything, the fact that i saw a hugh grant film last night, the fact that in a fit of colour-blindness in the morning i was wearing a pink shirt and pink underwear - all of that conspired to rock my happy 'i'm-just-another-smuck-lawyer-doing-my-job' mood. so i told s.b.q. that she should be so lucky.


but i'm never one to stick to lemons when the chips are down. i sat and looked behind me to look at the still faintly glowing morning sky and reminded myself of the fact that love isn't always best expressed with gifts on valentine's day - i'd have to kill whoever is silly enough to think i would swoon over a pink teddy bear holding a stuffed heart.


this may be the first valentine's day that i've been mature enough to be happy on, without whining and bitching about the man i'm going out with (or the lack of said man, depending on the year), and i might even bring myself to acknowledge publicly that i do sometimes think about these things myself, so that's definitely something to celebrate. so you can pile on the sentimental platitudes, the frilly pink underwear - i'll handle it all without so much as a shudder because i'm mature now.


but i have to stop grimacing at the sight of my own pink shirt first.