Valentines 2013. My Greek mate Vasilis told me yesterday the Brisbane restaurants will be doing a roaring trade in romantic dinners tonight. Roses at a premium on the day of love. I have done the romantic dinners, the single rose, the sexy lingerie. That last one drew some funny looks in the restaurant. I thought I looked OK in the blood red suspenders.
I got the message for this year. The Keeper of The Purse, now that we live on Austerity Drive, put out the edict "No Gifts". I did buy the card from the shrapnel I cobbled together out of the ashtray in my horseless carriage.
Why is it when buying a card you have to read every card in the display ? Hallmark ain't necessarily the hallmark. Because I do love a "Short Black", I checked out the card with the two shots on the front, in the "Wife" section. It read, " Honey, you are the shot of creamy milk to my espresso", that left me a little flat white. It could have been so much better, I'm sure "honey" would rather be the"skinnyccino".
My mind went to:
"Honey, you're the sweetness atop my capuccino, the grinder of my beans. I'm your ristretto even though you'd love to try a long black. We're the perfect macchiato. See you latte. I'll be the shot of steam in your frother".
I think that would have me in front of the barrister before the barista.
I ended up with the appropriate words for this day. Thursday is now"HOUSECLEANING DAY" on Austerity Drive. So it's a housecleaning Valentines. The card said "You'll Do Me" on the front, then opened up to "Washing, Ironing, Cleaning", and down below "I do have some other ideas about what we could "do" together".
We'll laugh over that one tonight. Forget the rose, we'll do it over a rose'. Uncomfortable as it will be. It's difficult to sit with a feather duster stuck in your posterior.
Thirty years of marriage and it's come to this.
Dusting before lusting.
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