Or maybe not. Came home last night with a blinding migraine. Music would have been bad. Instead, I chose the intelligent alternative of having a warm vanilla-y bath. Mmm.

Today is Pick On Single (Or Partnered and Unhappy) People and Make Them Feel Guilty Day. I’ve always disliked Valentine’s Day. It either makes you feel you should be with someone (which is far from a necessity to be happy or normal), or if you do make up part of a couple, it makes you feel like you should heap piles of chocolate and flowers on them. What’s wrong with chocolate and flowers the other 364 days of the year? Or, why not (as I did) wash the dishes for your love instead? Or pick them up from work rather than making them take the bus alone? There’s so many better ways to tell them you care.

Speaking of beloveds, it’s my husband’s birthday this weekend (photo courtesy of the Grand Poohbah), and as we will be entangled in twelve solid hours of rehearsal for next week’s show, we’re going out tonight to celebrate. As always, the only present he’s asked for is to see a bunch of people having fun, so a whole whack o’persons will be gathering at the pub for cider and baked Brie. Good fun. A few of us pooled cash and got him the three-DVD set of Toy Story, Toy Story 2, and the extra DVD with all the developmental material on it. He’s an animator by career, so he drools over stuff like this. It’s cute. Personally, I’m taking him to see Stuart McLean & the Vinyl Cafe tour when it hits Theatre Outremont next week; we love Stuart and consider him the nearest thing to a modern bard Canada’s got. (Although Gordon Lightfoot runs a close second.)

Must be off! Must dare the elements and public transport to cog, so that we can buy kitty kibble for the moggies. (Isn’t that the most important reason?)