A Hot and Steamy no..... Warmish Romance no..... Kind of Pleasant if you like that sort of thing
I'm a lucky person. I love my husband (most of the time) and he loves me (most of the time). So one would think that February with Valentines Day and all would be a great time for us to celebrate each other. It isn’t. We try, but February always defeats us.
In February, Christmas excitement is long past and hopes of a summer holiday are far away and getting smaller as the bills from said Christmas excitement cram our bulging mailbox.
Invariably, one or both of us have some huge, stressful project going on at work. The weather is gray and the combination of sun deprivation and stress depress our immune systems and our spirits.
Still, these things are no reason for gloom! We are young(ish)! We are in love! We are brainwashed by Hallmark! We are going to have romance if it kills us!
Dave will try. In a sultry voice he murmurs, “Darling, sniffle cough—excuse me—I’ve got whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles…”
Me, just home from work, “Huh? What? Why do we need sprinkles? OH MY GOSH! I’m supposed to bake 60 cupcakes for the cub scouts tonight! Listen, run to the store and get…”
I will try, “Oh Dave, I—cough cough, hack gasp cough—sorry—I still get chills when you hold me.”
Dave, “I think your fever is going up again.”
We both try. It’s 10:30 at night and the first time we’ve seen each other that day.
“Dave?”
“huh?”
“grunt”
“mmmmm”
“ugh”
Another day, Dave comes home, “Get dressed! We’re going out for a romantic dinner!”
Me, “Great!”
The Car: “cough cough---silence”
But the main problem with romance, especially when the specific date you’re supposed to feel the roaring flames of passion is dictated to you, is that what the media shows by way of flowers and candy is much different than what one typically gets or even wants after years of marriage. For example, Dave once surprised me with a copy of Algebra for Dummies. I was delighted. It was exactly what I wanted. But bragging about it at work the next day didn’t go over so well.
‘He got you what?”
“Did you guys have a fight?”
Oh well, what do they know? But an even better surprise was the time some ladies from church were scheduled to come over for a visit. My housekeeping skills being on par with my math skills, this was an occasion for some alarm. But when I came home from work the house was spotless and this letter was on the coffee table:
Enjoy your meeting. All is in readiness. The parts of the house that anyone will see have been cleaned from center to circumference. If you have dirty dishes, wash and dry them and put them away. If there isn’t time, hide them under the sink of someplace! I’ve taken Catherine to sign up for the summer reading program. We’ll be back later.
Love,
Dave
P.S. Throw this note away! Do not leave it on the table!
Ahhh. Sometimes I think I’d marry him all over again, even in February.
In February, Christmas excitement is long past and hopes of a summer holiday are far away and getting smaller as the bills from said Christmas excitement cram our bulging mailbox.
Invariably, one or both of us have some huge, stressful project going on at work. The weather is gray and the combination of sun deprivation and stress depress our immune systems and our spirits.
Still, these things are no reason for gloom! We are young(ish)! We are in love! We are brainwashed by Hallmark! We are going to have romance if it kills us!
Dave will try. In a sultry voice he murmurs, “Darling, sniffle cough—excuse me—I’ve got whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles…”
Me, just home from work, “Huh? What? Why do we need sprinkles? OH MY GOSH! I’m supposed to bake 60 cupcakes for the cub scouts tonight! Listen, run to the store and get…”
I will try, “Oh Dave, I—cough cough, hack gasp cough—sorry—I still get chills when you hold me.”
Dave, “I think your fever is going up again.”
We both try. It’s 10:30 at night and the first time we’ve seen each other that day.
“Dave?”
“huh?”
“grunt”
“mmmmm”
“ugh”
Another day, Dave comes home, “Get dressed! We’re going out for a romantic dinner!”
Me, “Great!”
The Car: “cough cough---silence”
But the main problem with romance, especially when the specific date you’re supposed to feel the roaring flames of passion is dictated to you, is that what the media shows by way of flowers and candy is much different than what one typically gets or even wants after years of marriage. For example, Dave once surprised me with a copy of Algebra for Dummies. I was delighted. It was exactly what I wanted. But bragging about it at work the next day didn’t go over so well.
‘He got you what?”
“Did you guys have a fight?”
Oh well, what do they know? But an even better surprise was the time some ladies from church were scheduled to come over for a visit. My housekeeping skills being on par with my math skills, this was an occasion for some alarm. But when I came home from work the house was spotless and this letter was on the coffee table:
Enjoy your meeting. All is in readiness. The parts of the house that anyone will see have been cleaned from center to circumference. If you have dirty dishes, wash and dry them and put them away. If there isn’t time, hide them under the sink of someplace! I’ve taken Catherine to sign up for the summer reading program. We’ll be back later.
Love,
Dave
P.S. Throw this note away! Do not leave it on the table!
Ahhh. Sometimes I think I’d marry him all over again, even in February.
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