Come to Your Senses Day

I spent most of the day yesterday sleeping off the effects of a box of Godiva chocolates I gave to myself because my true love pulled a Crater recently with my former best friend, the one I loved like a brother even though he was dumber but more handsome than me, and now both live in some unincorporated area of Idaho protected by Rabid rottweilers and a bunch of survivalists who were hippies at one time, but now are all loons waiting for some asteroid to hit Earth and take them up to some planet just north of Capricorn. Damn! Glucose-induced run-a-muck sentences are sure fun to write. I wish I could speak this coherently during therapy.

Because I was twitching yesterday (not to be confused with Twittering), I missed posting this important post-Valentine Day holiday message: February 15th is duly recognized throughout the feminine world as Come to Your Senses Day and should not be confused with But He Was So Nice to Me Before I Slept with Him Day, Can I Get My Money Back from Him Day, or Restraining Order is now Finally in Effect Day.

I'm a fan of some of the holiday's progenitors such as Emily Dickinson, Dorothy Parker, and Melvin Dewey; this important date is circled on all my calendars throughout my apartment, so had I been all together yesterday, this post would not be coming out today. I have no calendar in my bedroom, but I do have a three-minute egg timer on my nightstand to remind me of those days when I did have someone important in my life.