Valentine's Hangover

I woke up in a particularly foul mood. I don't know what my problem is, but I practically bit Sammy's head off and he's not talking to me right now. Yes, I realize he's a dog and doesn't talk, but he was pouting when I left and wouldn't even look at my grumpy face (despite my feeble attempts to reconcile before I walked out the door). Sad.

It's one of those days where I knew I should've stayed in bed even while I was lying there in bed. I shouldn't have left the comfort of my covers. No good is going to come from my being around other people, I can assure you.

OK, if you must know, I suppose there's always that post-Valentines day letdown...even if I were in a relationship I'd probably still feel it. Since I'm not, I guess it's even worse: There's this deep down secret hope that some far-away long-ago suitor will realize I'm the love of his life and show up at my doorstep like some fairytale or Disney movie. Now, I may logically realize that I'm not actually a Disney Princess, but it doesn't stop the secret wish that Prince Charming is on his way. I know it's non-sensical and I'd like to say that it was silly and I'll never feel this way again. But I can't help it. There's a part of me that's been waiting for this magical horse and carriage to arrive since I was little and first learned about Valentine's Day and Happily Ever After.

While I did receive a call from someone special, nothing's going to come from that, so it's almost more depressing to even continue the "I miss you" charade. I don't have an answer on how to feel better. Not even leftover chocolate is working. I'm screwed.