Some time in February '07, California.I seem to have vastly underestimated how much I enjoy browsing the aisles and aisles of Valentine's Day crap at Target (V.D.C.A.T.). I usually don't bring any of it home with me, but V.D.C.A.T. brings back the fondest memories of childhood (never mind there was no Target in the rural town I grew up in--it's highly unlikely I'd be hitting up a Rite Aid for my Valentine's Day Crap needs if there's a bull's eye alternative).
All the cartoon valentine card sets! The suckers with messages on them! Those lame little Lifesaver packets that are supposed to look like a book but don't! All the chintzy little stuffed animals! The kitsch factor goes out the roof and I can't get enough of it. Sigh. What more could a twenty five year old need?
Inner doubting self: A life?
Me: Shut up.
The cool thing is, although I cannot be transported there tomorrow morning while Philipp is {ahem, cough} at work, it will all be marked down and smiling at me by the time we're in the U.S.
You know what this means: Candy conversation hearts. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.
Also, never fear. Easter will be rolling back the aisles in a few weeks. And SweeTart ducks & bunnies are all friends of mine.
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