I don't really care for Valentine's Day. It's no secret. I think it's an excuse to sell stupid cheap stuffed toys, or chocolate, or over-priced cards and half-dead flowers. It's for the young, the teen-aged and early twenties set. The kids like it because they get to bug their parents to buy more crap and eat crap for really no reason other than Hallmark says it's ok.
I really should one day research the actual meaning and origin of Valentine's Day. I'm curious to know who started it.
I don't hate it. It does provide a much needed break and splash of colour in an otherwise dreary and long winter haul. It also gives me a theme to work crafts around for the kids. The sugar-high part, I could do without.
But as far as my own love life, I don't need Hallmark and mass marketing to tell me I need to tell my DH I love him. I tell him that anyway. And cards have never been much of big thing around here. My DH believes in only funny cards, for any occasion, and has never been one to express any sentiment whatsoever via the written word, unlike my sis's sweet hubby. (Perhaps he should give lessons)
To me, actions speak louder than words, written or spoken. And this morning, my DH gave me a most fabulous gift:
He did the dishes from last night.
Without being asked to, or hinted at.
I told him I loved him, and thank you. And that he really couldn't have given me a better gift.
L objected, saying that he's sure lots of things would have been better. But I don't think so. Flowers are pretty, but a waste of money. Chocolates are yummy but fattening and they generally don't agree with me anyway. Even a maid service would be great, but I would have been annoyed at the money spent to get it.
Nope. Doing the dishes was truly the best Valentine's gift I've ever received.