V-Day: Post Mortem

This is the beginning of what will hopefully be an indulgently lazy weekend.  It's one of those days where it's dark and rainy outside, and the couch is quite possibly the coziest place on earth.  I couldn't even be bothered to get dressed before making an absolutely necessary trip to Starbucks this morning.  I rolled up in my PJ's, hair thrown up in a sloppy ponytail, and slippers on my feet.  They do have a drive thru after all, and really, who am I trying to impress.  

So what happened to me two days ago (V-day for those counting)?  I did in fact spend the evening alone, but by choice and definitely not crying.  After my late morning freak out, I proceeded to return to the office only to feel myself deteriorating as the afternoon went by.  By mid-afternoon, I couldn't take it any longer.  I had to leave, which I did, and head straight to Walgreen's.  Apparently, I have a food allergy.  I was experiencing those classic signs: tingling, itching face, throat feeling like it's closing up.  I couldn't get the Benedryl in me fast enough.  In fact, I didn't make it out of the parking lot before popping a couple of pills.  Once I made it home, I called my friend to bow out of the play.  Her husband was once again going to have to suffer through that estrogen-fest.  I proceeded to hit the couch, dogs running amok everywhere, and crash.  I was just about in a deep sleep, when the phone rang.  It was 5, and of course, an appropriate time for the guy to call and ask me out to dinner.  Are you kidding me?  I told him I was in dire straights and needed my sleep, and that I'd call him back after my nap.  I have my priorities.  Post nap, I call him back and dinner talks unfold.  I have to decline.  I'm worn out and completely content to stay in my PJ's on the couch.  He makes an inappropriate joke about how I ruined his plans... he had bought flowers and chocolates, and made a reservation at a great restaurant... all a joke.  He's sick, and not in the physically ill sense of the word.  I call bullshit on him.  I know he's done no such thing, then he lays the burden back on me... because I hadn't made any plans either.  Seriously???  As my one good, male, friend said... THAT'S HIS JOB!!!!!!!!!  I get off the phone, none too quickly I'm ashamed to admit, then order up some greasy Chinese food and cozy up to watch Hello Dolly, one of my guilty pleasures.