I love my wife. I tell her so several times a day. When we wake up, on the phone, when we get home from work, before we drift off to sleep. The day just doesn’t feel complete without it.
On Valentine’s Day, however, we won’t do anything special. No office deliveries of long-stemmed red roses. No Hallmark greeting card with ready-made sentiments to express what I am (apparently) incapable of expressing on my own. And no making reservations at a hoity-toity restaurant weeks in advance to dine on an overpriced prix fixe menu.