Really, there's little point to go beyond the title. That pretty much sums it up.
We just got home from the church, where me, Andrew, and the rest of the youth group were waiting tables for the church Valentine's Banquet. Which was passably fun, though I'm not looking for a career in hospitality. Also, somewhat awkward, though it would have been more-so had I not wound up waiting on my own family. But giggling in the corner with the youth group and dressing in matched black bottoms, white tops outfits, scarfing down spaghetti and cheesecake when it was the kitchen help's turn to eat.
However, I tend to think that I was actually more stressed out than I felt (possibly due to some interpersonal awkardness I'm hoping passes soon), because *drumroll please* my eczema started acting up!! Which is usually a dead give-away, even to myself, that there's something not quite right in my psyche. Stress triggers eczema, 2 + 2 = 4, Ella's hands start bleeding. Woohoo.
And, yeah, woohoo Valentines Day. I don't have the energy for an actual rant right now, but pointless commercial holiday, making single people feel miserable and not-single people obligated to spend money on mass-produced tokens of cheap affection, or else risk the the wrath of their significant other. Vomit-worthy levels of pink in the stores, conversation hearts that get dumber every year, and kiddies exchanging cardstock valentines based on their favorite cartoon characters. Doesn't that just sound like fun?
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