1234

Well well, it is Valentine’s Day.

I spent a good hour yesterday wandering through Target looking for Valentinesy trinkets (and vegan treats, of course). It was a lackluster experience. I can’t believe everything was THAT picked over. Didn’t see any “kiddie cut out” cards with cutesy phrases or cartoons AT ALL.

We are celebrating Valentine’s Day at work. 8 hours from now. I ended up getting Frozen-themed ziplock baggies and filling them with 4-5 pieces of (respectable brands only) small chocolates, along with a note signed with my first and last name.

I thought about making up a cutesy poem or even plagiarizing something from the internet, but I decided it didn’t matter. 34 ziplock baggies for the whole office. I’m sure there will be more creative or well thought out Valentines goodies out there tomorrow, but who doesn’t like chocolate? Who would ever win a fight against chocolate?

Yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday and obviously I’m not one to care. I wish I did care, because that would add a splash of excitement to my life that I desperately need. Or even to just feel connected to a larger activity. I don’t understand football at all. I’ve never cared about sports, although I was a decent swimmer growing up. I have a “second place in breast stroke” note with my name spelled wrong taped to my 4th-5th grade diary.

Some neighbor is blaring music, probably a super bowl party that’s refusing to die. I keep hearing the vibrations of the bass. It’s irritating but at least Mallory seems to be over it now.

I feel dull and adrift, but there is some peace in it which I appreciate. Irritated by a few people who try to be “supportive” and “comforting.” I hate feeling like a fixer-upper. There is nothing to pity in my world. I don’t want unsolicited advice. Ever.

A few months ago I wrote about a wedding I bailed on in October due to my dad being at death’s door. I remember writing something along the lines of “I want to drop almost everyone.” I still feel that way, especially with some of my family. Apparently a memorial is being arranged for my dad in Pittsburgh in “the spring.”

Family secrets. Addiction. A drained 401k. Me being in the middle of this shit unwittingly for years.

I NEVER want a family. Ugh.

It is 1234. I’ll take that as a sign to go to bed.

xoxoxo,

Caitlin