Happy Valentine’s Day

A ring of the doorbell during nap time sent me from singing along to Bublé to cussing under my breath. “Calm down,” I reassured my snarky side. “You’re expecting a delivery. The delivery person must have rung the doorbell as a head’s up that your new shoes are now on the doorstep.” My inner snark rolled his eyes. I stayed in the bathroom and continued freshening up for my niece’s afternoon birthday party.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! “Well, it looks like I’ll be murdering someone today,” I muttered under my breath, setting down the mascara tube and exiting the bathroom – sometimes my snarky side’s voice becomes my own.

“Now now,” I responded. “It’s happening, so how is it a good thing?”

Why do you insist on trusting that everything happens as it should? How about you wait for hindsight to find the silver lining and be pissed off and discontented in the now?!

By the time my snarky side finished his rant, I was opening the front door where a delivery man stood holding a floral arrangement. “Jamie?” he asked. “That’s me,” I responded, confused as to why I was receiving flowers. While signing for the delivery, it dawned on me: Valentine’s Day.

It took both hands to carry the vase into the house. I set the arrangement on the counter, tore back the protective paper, and read the note from my husband. Less than a minute prior I had been bitching about a disruptive delivery during naptime. Thanks to the doorbell and a heavy-handed knock, I was gaping at two-dozen red roses.

But wait, it gets better.

Nap time?

Continued on as usual.

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