The Fiery One left in the wee hours of yesterday morning on a work trip that he will not arrive back from until several minutes after Valentine's Day in the even wee-er hours of the 15th. I am not one to put a lot of weight on the greeting card industry days, but these work trips have stolen him away through all of our more meaningful days over the last year (except for the Christmas season), and so all of a sudden I am giving a good goddam about his not being here on Valentine's Day.
Let's see... He missed most of the summer, which left me having to feel bitter all alone about the decent weather we did not get for the entire season. It's much less fun to bitch when you don't have an audience. Our third wedding anniversary was at the beginning of June. I think he was in Australia then. His birthday was near the end of July. Was he in the Philippines for that? I lose track of these things. There were a couple of other days that would have been nice to commemorate, like that one in August.
It's not his fault that he wasn't here. Work called. I have no regrets about telling him to take this job, because he has been able to travel all over the fucking globe while getting paid to do it. It's been a great experience for him, and it's not the sort of thing that gets handed out like mixed nuts at family gatherings.
I suppose this is a litte woe-is-me-ish. I realize that I'm only using the backdrop of Valentine's Day as an excuse to dwell a litlle. I'll be ovulating around the 14th of the month anyway, and my personality sucks when I'm doing that. And I'm only doing so much dwelling today because I have my period and can't seem to sleep after 4:00 am and someone was rude to me and my blood sugar is all wonky up and down.
Okay, I see now. This has little or nothing to do with the Fiery One missing Valentine's day. My brain chemicals are cracked out. Maybe I should drink. Oh, yesssssss. That sounds like a good idea.
Who needs Valentine's Day anyway? The Fiery One called me up from the road last night and said some of the sweetest shit I've heard in a long time. It was so sweet that I got weepy remembering it this morning. Sappy goodness on the 2nd of February trumps the arbitrary social enforcement of romance on the 14th any day.
My brain is much too addled with hormones or low sugar levels or the need for beer or what have you, because I actually had a couple of entries planned in the back of my head that I could choose from today. One would have been about how the suppression of anger and other negative emotions does not only serve to bottle up and numb your darker feelings but also serves to narrow the whole spectrum of emotional experience so that your ability to feel joy is also affected. The other one was going to act a mood-lifter for me and had something to do with going on about all of my successes over the last five years of my life and the positive directions in which I see myself heading.
Both of them seem possibly constructive, which is not my forte of the last twenty-four hours. You don't get either of them.
Oh, no, wait, I am feeling better, but I still need beer. Okay, I want beer. It is important to keep one's needs and one's wants clearly defined. This does seem to be a mental health check day, so I must be watchful about crossing these carefully drawn lines.
I want beer, so I'm going to go drink it because I need to fulfill my wants at a time like this.