V-Day delight

I have to write about Valentine’s Day, right? Well, I was a pathetic loser on Valentine’s Day and you probably don’t want to hear about it. But obviously I will tell you a bit about it anyway.

We had a gift certificate to the local fancy wine and cheese shop (that is actually called the ever snooty “The Wine Shop”) so I walked my sick and sorry ass down the block to scope it out. The fresh air felt great but not lying face down on the couch felt horrible. Anyway, this shop had the most random teas, sausages, dried herbs, magnets and other weird items you have ever, or never, seen. It was overwhelmingly stocked with boxes poking off of shelves, colorful labels all over the place, and a giant, shiny meat counter, so I panicked and went to the booze. Being Valentine’ Day and all, I went for the champagne section. I know absolutely nothing about champagne except that you can’t call it champagne unless it is actually from champagne. Everything else, to the Champagners’ delight I’m sure, is supposed to be called “sparkling wine.” I don’t know about you but I would rather have champagne than sparkling wine. But I’m poor and cheap so I actually don’t care one bit. And also, some of it is “dry” and some “brut”. I could look up what that means and then pretend I know but I’m too lazy.

So I’m looking at some champagne, and some champagne next to the bottle I have in my hand, and the one above that, and one in a green label, and one that’s dusty…and I realize how stupid this is. I have no frickin’ clue what I’m doing. It’s okay: I’m smart. I take out the gift certificate, see that it’s for $50, and then pick up the bottle closest to $50 that will also let me buy the $5 tea that my aunt likes without spending any of my own cash. Cha-ching—free champagne I would never purchase for myself, ever.

This euphoric feeling gets me to ski practice, during which I have to drive 6 ADHD kids in a cramped and smelly mini-van and then stand outside in the cold for an hour and a half watching them dink around at their last ski training of the year and complain about how they don’t want to have yesterday’s canceled championship race rescheduled because, and I’m quoting here, they “don’t want to have to miss school again.” If you know me at all you will know that this enrages me. What kind of athlete doesn’t want to miss school? I’m all for the idea of the “student-athlete”…but why would you play a sport and then complain about getting to play it instead of sitting in class all day?

So I go home, sicker than before. And also mad. Genius combination, really. And while law school bf doesn’t have a fever anymore, he is still sniffling and hocking loogies and well, gross. Valentine’s Day can be very unromantic.