I was not prepared for Valentine's Day this year. I spent the first part of this week laid out in bed, experiencing the delightful sensations of “Positional Vestibular Vertigo” for the very first time in my life. It came on suddenly, and Monday I was able to do nothing but clutch a bucket and incompetently drool on myself. My doctor gave me some wonderful exercises to do – one of which I have euphemistically named the “barf maker”. He said it should clear on its own in a few days, but I have never had anything take me out of commission like this did.
I've written a good deal about disability being largely influenced by attitude, and I was determined to “walk the walk”. So, on Tuesday I ensconced myself in my favorite recliner, bucket by my side, iPad in hand, and prepared to remotely steer my ship. In reality I have good people at the office perfectly capable of steering, thank you, and it is a good thing. I likely would have driven us into a reef in my condition. In fact I did conduct some business via email that day, and I am not sure, but I may have accidentally sold my company to a Nigerian prince in a series of email exchanges. It seems he needed my help freeing 14 Billion rubles from his native Swaziland. I even wrote a blog post that day. It had something to do with burning down nursing homes, but I don't really recall. It is a blur.
Wednesday I managed to make it to the office and back. The curbing on both sides of the street was very helpful in keeping my car pointed in the appropriate direction. The audio assists from other driver's horns were also greatly appreciated, despite my middle finger indicating otherwise.
Needless to say, I never got to the store to get anything for my wife for Valentine's Day.
Thursday morning my wife gave me 5 wonderful cards; a touching, sentimental one from her, and one from each of our 4 cats (Yes, we are the crazy cat people on our block. The Humane Society loves us). She was already aware when I told her that those little bastards didn’t get her anything. In fact, she was extraordinarily gracious, knowing that I had been sick all week, and that I had been unable to get her anything for the day. Still, I felt poorly for being in that situation.
Later that day, my wife called me at the office and asked me if I was feeling up to picking up some wine on the way home. Specifically she wanted one of our perennial favorites, a red wine called Ménage à Trois. It is a reasonably priced blend of Zinfandel, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. We also decided just to do a pizza for dinner, so I would pick up a frozen pizza as well (Home Run Inn – Sausage). And of course, since I was headed to the store, I figured I would pick up some flowers for her while I was there. It was Valentine's Day, after all.
Some of you may see where I am headed with this. Don't get ahead of me just yet.
At the local Publix, and still a bit dizzy from the Vertigo, I was having trouble locating our preferred “Produit de la vigne” (That is product of the vine for those of you in North Dakota). As I wandered up and down the aisle looking for it, a young, dazed, confused looking man holding a shopping basket with a dozen pink roses in it stopped me and asked if I could help him. He needed a red wine for dinner, and “couldn't remember the name”, but knew it was supposed to go with steak. Clearly a wine newbie. I recommended a Red Diamond Merlot or a Mark West Pinot Noir, both full flavored and reasonably priced. When I told him I preferred a good Ménage à Trois but couldn't find one, he suddenly looked as though he regretted asking for my assistance, or that the flowers he was holding had sent the wrong message. I'm not sure. At any rate, he did what any self respecting incompetent male would do at this point. He phoned his significant other to find out what he was supposed to buy.
Also, I should mention that it is never advisable to approach a young female Publix stocking clerk and ask if she can help you find a Ménage à Trois. That can cause all kinds of confusion, and their security people, it seems, are relatively humorless.
I eventually found my wine, which was conveniently located directly opposite the Home Run Inn Pizza on the same aisle. I then went to the flower case, grabbed some roses, and headed for the checkout.
So here I am, “walking the walk”. It is 6 o'clock on Valentine's Day, and I am in the grocery store checkout holding flowers, a bottle of wine, and a frozen pizza. This Publix Supermarket has, like all stores, regular and express checkout lines, but this register might as well have had a sign over it saying “Losers who aren't getting laid tonight”. I'm not sure, but I thought I felt the burning heat of a spotlight while I was there as well. The entire episode was easily summed up by the pathetic look on the face of the woman in front of me on the escalator to the exit (Sarasota is a hip, urban place, so naturally our downtown Publix is built over its own garage. The management on a prior visit asked me to stop playing with their cool cart escalator. Turns out I am not hip and urban).
Truth be told, while I have made humorous comments and told funny stories in the past that involve my wife, there is no one I would rather be with. She is an exceptional woman, who accepts me for who and what I am, nothing more, nothing less. She is, quite simply, my best friend. I may not be the most attentive, or the easiest to live with, or this year have been able to muster a simple card on Valentine's Day; but I can use this forum to tell her how much she means to me, day in and day out, and that I love her very much.
Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart. And it's not just the Vertigo talking.