It didn't come as much of a surprise when I picked up this week's work schedule. As usual, I'll be on (not just on-call) tomorrow night, which just happens to coincide with that most hallowed holiday for lovers. Ah yes, Valentine's Day. Depending on who you talk to, it's either the most romantic...or the most stressful day/night you can have. The good old days of giving that special someone a nice card, a bag of conversation heart candies stamped with "So Fine" or "Cutie Pie" and calling it a day are as passe' as Lindsay Lohan's acting career.
My first Valentine's Day with Wingman only happened because the band he was in succumbed to their girlfriends' pressure not to practice that night. Valentine's Day that year also happened to coincide with a Nor'easter. After getting through flooded roads, my car got stuck in the mud in front of my beachfront apartment. In the time it took him to help me push it out to higher ground, the chicken I was cooking for our romantic dinner burned to a crisp. I mean really burned. Non-edible burned. Wine-couldn't-help-it burned.