Who you callin' old?

Paul and I had our Valentine's Day date last night. Y'all know I hate Valentine's Day, right? I mean, really hate Valentine's Day. Have since Junior High, probably will forever. If you love someone, show them you love them every day. Not just on February 14th. You can call it bitterness, sour grapes, crotchety old woman syndrome, whatever. I don't care what you call me when it comes to Valentine's Day - I'm usually too cranky to care what you call me on that day.

ANNNNNNNNNNNNNyway..........

We had a wonderful dinner at the Clubhouse Restaurant inside Stables Casino then went to High Winds Casino INSTEAD of going to the movies like I wanted to. It wasn't until my sister called me FROM THE THEATRE because she was under the impression we were going and couldn't figure out why she didn't see me in the crowd at Music and Lyrics (Yeah, I was under that impression, too, sister. I. Was. Too.) that Paul said, "Oh, you wanted to go to the movies? Well, let's go right now then!" Tater called me as the movie was starting. I stomped away from him in such a huff, lemme tell ya. He didn't care, but it made me feel better.

And people wonder why I loathe Valentine's Day and All Things Romantic.

ANNNNNNNNNNNNyway............ again.

We got home at 1:30am and by the time he built a fire and I mopped the kitchen floor and then collapsed into bed, it was after 2. Then Mr. Chattypants, the man who grunts in lieu of all conversation on every other day of my life, decided to be OH SO TALKATIVE and I'd just about get to sleep and he'd ask me a question or blurt out his theory on quantum physics and the next Presidential election. And just for the record, no, we did not even get jiggy wit' it. The are just some dates that do not warrant such things.

I had left my van at Mom's when I dropped off the kids, so when that alarm went off at 6 this morning so I could get up and go into town with him on his way to work, I nearly cried. I was so tired. He dropped me off, I took the kids to the donut shop (deep-fried sugary pastries help cure all things - fatigue, bad attitudes over rotten holidays and dates gone wrong, PMS, and gout) then to Wal*Mart to pick up a few things for the Pampered Chef show I hosted today.

We got home and I was so glad I had mopped at 1:45am. I jumped in the shower while the kids watched cartoons, slapped on some makeup, then started making food because I think I am Paula Deen's long lost love-child because I have this overwhelming, incredible urge to feed people if they are going to be in my home.

The party was fun - I think we thoroughly teed off the consultant a few times with our interrupting, raucous laughter and veiled references to gettin' jiggy wit' it, but I don't think she hates us too awful much.

I had to check my web doohickymajig for school because I knew I had a mid-term in English that I need to do tomorrow and I also knew I had a Psych test tomorrow, but I had totally forgotten about a History exam due by tomorrow, too. YEAH. I need to sit down and just finish up the semester in History. That class just sneaks up on me. Now, if I were a good, responsible student I'd work on some of it tonight instead of using up a whole 15 minutes to write this blog post, but instead I'm twisting my priorities, claiming extreme tiredness that even deep-fried sugary pastry won't fix and I'm going to bed. It's 9. The kids have only been in bed 30 minutes.

It's Valentine's Day that does this to me. I'm old because of Valentine's Day. If I could sue someone over it, I would. Hmmm....I wonder if I could somehow blame this on ConAgra.......