…to the power of 80

I’m going to be so happy when the Valentine’s Day commercials disappear. Singles Awareness Day is my least favorite day of the year. Every year. And yet, for reasons that defy all logic, I’m always hopeful. I’m always hopeful that something will happen to finally make it a good one. Even now, much as I insist I hate the day and will just sleep through it, I can’t help but hope that something will happen. Heaven only knows what. It can be something small. Just something… good. And maybe just a trifle romantic. Even though it’s never happened, I always always hope. I can’t help it. I don’t even want to help it. The day I lose hope in the magic of life is the day I die.

On the other hand, V-Day won’t be completely uneventful. One of my friends from Edmonton will be coming down. And not just any friend, but Sharon. Yes, the girl from the hostel on whom I’ve been majorly crushing since I first met her in June. She’s a five-foot ball of energy. And I’m just a tiny bit giddy over how much effort she put into tracking me down to tell me she was coming to town and insisting we hang out. Of course, I’m sure she’ll be with her girlfriend. I mean, really. Who travels solo on the one day of the year that you’re socially obligated to shower your significant other with lovins? So I’m sure I’ll be a third wheel, but at least I’ll get to see her. God, she’s so adorable. Maybe I can kidnap her and tie her up in my sex dungeon? Note to self: construct a sex dungeon.

In other news! Life is coming back together. Sharing my studio apartment with my mom hasn’t been the easiest transition, but we’re making it work. It’s been nice being able to cook for someone. I’ve been feeling all sorts of domestic of late. The fact that I’ve had a lot more babysitting gigs has helped that, I’m sure. Last night I was sitting for one of my regulars and I can’t remember what the exact situation was, but I was in the kitchen making her dinner and she was behind me getting into some sort of trouble. I told her no or to stop or whatever it was and she asked if I had kids. When I replied that I didn’t she asked, with complete sincerity, "Then how do you have eyes in the back of your head?" …I could have died. Too.damn.cute. It’s moments like that that make me want to strangle her mom. I’m thankful that her mom is always at clubs because it means I have a job, but I can’t understand how she can so willingly and frequently give up moments like that. Nor do I understand how she can allow her child to go all week without doing homework, then when I get there at 7:30 Thursday night she expects me to get a 6-year-old to sit down and focus on four days of work just before bedtime. *gahhhh* So incredibly frustrating.

I’ve thought a lot about becoming a foster parent, but I don’t think I could do it. I fall so in love with the kids that I work with. I can’t imagine being with a child every single day and then having to give them back to parents that are going to treat them like shit. It would tear me apart. Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not in a stable enough position to provide a child a home. Maybe one day…