My Three Valentines
I had gone to bed a little groggy the night before, assisted by some Jim Beam and sheer fatigue, as I had worked one hell of a day at Winthrop and Associates, a top-notch advertising firm, before I got home for a Valentine’s Day date with Shelly, my wife of just one year. The date had gone well, partly due to Shelly’s giving nature, where she had actually cooked some chicken-fried steaks instead asking her exhausted hubby, namely me, to do something. Then again, she also used the old “Netflix...