Since I have been married longer than I’ve been legally able
to feed myself or gamble, I guess you might say at the game of love I’ve been
lucky – or at least haven’t CRAPPED out! Yes, despite my curmudgeony fud
duddery about most holidays, I have a soft choco spot in my heart, as well as
on my shirt, for Valentines day and all of its romantic notions. Who can knock a
day truly shaped for simpletons like me where seeing RED is required and
wrapping gifts in foil for your ‘goil’ is A-OK, as long as they’re crammed in a
blood-colored box.
Don’t worry it’s just the sugar high talking. Truly aside
from my bulbous ‘gut-blubb’ to rub and fluffy man-mallow membrane, my head n’ hide
are still just as hard to get through as a cellophane sealed heart-box full of
chalky chocolate. Even on ‘V’ day my wife expects nothing of me but to remain
practical, predictable, and loyal to my nature, as more of an unadorned thorn in
her side rather than a radiant rose always at the ready.
So to mix it up a bit this year, beyond a ‘hunka hunka’ of
caloric candy love, I will remodel the bathroom and greet my wife’s frosty feet
with a warmed floor and toasty heat treat. In our lav, besides me, we have a round,
resource hungry and frigid sky-blue commode hung on the wall, atop an oh-so-cold
basement with no insulation at all. Yes my un-loved blue-loo has seen better
days, so with hammer, chisel and mission true, I must mount a shiny-white
low-flow elongated pot, to hopefully NOT miss in on cue.
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