I woke up, splashed water on my face, padded toward my wife, leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Happy St. Patrick’s Day.”

It was Valentine’s Day.

Oops.

The night before Valentine’s Day, I lay awake and planned the next day’s getaway.  On the pretense I was going to the grocery store because of a sudden craving for fajitas, I would get chocolates, a card, and flowers.

And I would go to the grocery store.

First, I wanted flowers.  Everyone buys a dozen red roses, but I had already done that.  I wanted an orchid.  It helped that, after I decided on an orchid, my wife said she wanted an orchid.  I must know her pretty well.  I went to Broadway Floral (on the south side of Broadway between 16^th and 17^th, just outside the Lloyd District) and looked at the orchids.

You have to realize that I know absolutely nothing about flowers, but the nice young woman that helped me did.  She pointed out that the orchids with lots of buds would bloom for a long time to come.  The ones that had already bloomed but had few buds – they’d shot their wad and would soon be done.

After talking to her, I bought a really bright fucshia colored orchid.  Is it spelled fuchsia?  I know how to spell most words, but not this one.  At See’s candy store in Lloyd Center, I bought a box of chocolates in a large red heart-shaped box.  I bought a card.  It was a slightly humorous card.  I’m not very good at serious sappy cards.

Then I went to the grocery store, filled the basket with stuff for fajitas, and while I was standing in the checkout line, I saw giant balloons that said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”  I had to have one, so I bought that, too.

I put the heart-shaped candy box in a shopping bag – hidden by some peppers – and went home.

I was ready.

After fifty-plus years, I actually spoke to my wife about Valentine’s Day and learned that women generally expect a guy to make all these purchases in advance.  If only I would have known that when I was younger but, I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway.  I’ve never been good at planning, not in my personal life.

Oops.