The Opposite of Valentine's Day (Amy K. Nichols)

My view as I write this

Yesterday was Valentine's Day.

My valentine was sick. He apologized for having a fever and feeling like a bucket of blah. Somehow he still managed to buy me flowers and the most delicious box of chocolates. Silly boy. He didn't have to do that.

While he spent the day zonked out, I fixed the patio screen door that the dogs have shredded with their incessant requests to go outside and inside and outside again. I'd never re-screened a door before, and I'm happy to report it turned out well. Proud of my accomplishment, I moved on to planting the vegetable garden (spring recently sprang here) and doing some routine yard work. By the time I was done, my nails were a dirt-caked mess. The palms of my hands sported a few blisters. Ooooh, pretty.

In the afternoon, I made my valentine some tea and partook of some of those yummy chocolates.

Before long it was time for dinner. Despite the romantic holiday, I didn't make anything fancy. Packaged three-cheese tortellini with red sauce and a salad. For my valentine, I made crab-stuffed ravioli (also packaged--I'm not that great in the kitchen) and hoped his taste buds were functional enough to register the crab (his favorite).

After dinner a migraine like you wouldn't believe bloomed behind my right eye. I curled into the fetal position on the couch and cried. Ow.

My valentine found a heavy pillow and put it on my head because even though it's a weird thing to do, he knows it helps (cranial pressure + sound dampening = ahhhhhh). Then he left me alone and let the kids know to leave me alone and I fell asleep and slept until the pain was gone.

Not your typical Valentine's Day. Certainly not your clichéd Valentine's Day. But definitely love. Lots and lots of love.