It’s Valentine’s Day. This is my third year — ever — with an actual Valentine. Not the third grade Valentines who can be pretty much your entire class, or the high school Valentines when you obligatorily send everyone you’re friends with a red rose through the Key Club because they promise they’ll send you one, too, so you can all walk around and pretend a boy actually cares about you when, in truth, it’s just you and a bunch of lonely girls corroborating sneakily at the Key Club table. Nope, none of those. It’s an actual boy whom I love.
Obligatory pause for the “Aww.”
Proceeding:
I’ve had three cups of tea this morning and a cinnamon sugar muffin. I was incidentally composing what I’d blog about that muffin after I took a bite in it, realizing, amusedly, that the muffin was actually cinnamon sugar instead of my intended corn. I love corn muffins for some obscure reason. Maybe it’s because I consider them “food” instead of “snack” or “treat” because of their corn content? Maybe. But anyway I was walking up the stairs from Ginger’s to the Glad and I was thinking, Hey, isn’t it amusing that this muffin is a cinnamon sugar muffin? What are the odds that I would mistakenly purchase this exact kind of muffin instead of a corn muffin? Then I did actually think about the odds. But enough of that pondersome oddity.
Happy Valentine’s Day, all!
