It's not even February yet! (Valentine Decorations)

It wasn't supposed to happen yet. I wasn't prepared. I need more time! Yesterday I was blissfully heading to my grocery store when I stopped short. There in the windows were three giant heart-shaped balloons with the words "Happy Valentine's Day" plastered in big red letters on their puffy helium-filled lobes.

My breath quickened and my mouth went dry. I started to choke. I nearly screamed out, "WAIT! People on my street have their Christmas trees out on the sidewalk for recycling to pick up! The shop next door still has a stuffed Santa in it, and need I remind you, it's not even February yet!" It was a drive-by shaming. And like the black plague, or red plague in this case, once it starts, it spreads like wildfire and only gets worse.

I bravely walked through the doors and right into the flower displays. A dozen roses were still $12 -- hah -- clearly it isn't Valentine's day yet, 'cause those babies will be up to $120 when that happens. The signs read, "Remember your love" -- I'd love to remember him, can you introduce me to him first please?

I wandered through the produce then came across the "seasonal" section where cupid had thrown up - red, white, and pink everywhere. Lace, candles, and candies that read, "fax me" (no really - someone wrote the text for that candy in 1992 and apparently it's still in rotation) and "UR the Best."

When I got to the check-out, the man took a look at my alcohol collection asked me if everything was all right. No, no it's not all right! How dare your store spend more than an entire month reminding me that Singles Awareness Day, also known as "SAD" was coming so soon and I was destined to spend it by myself, as opposed to many of my friends, who spend Valentine's Day being disappointed and eventually either sulking or in a fight with their boyfriend or husband.

I told the checkout guy that I was "fine." He then asked if I was having a party with all this wine. "Yes, a pity party" would probably have been the appropriate answer, but instead I just said yes, then decided to go back to the produce section -- I heard somewhere you can meet guys in supermarkets. I suppose, like gimmicky marketing for nonsense holidays, hope springs eternal and you can never start too early.