With February 14th a couple of weeks after the big game, I’m hoping next Valentine’s Day will be a change from the usual, which goes like this: I enter the lobby of my apartment building to see the front desk completely covered with floral arrangements awaiting delivery.  I purposely stroll by in slow motion, hoping the guy at the desk will say, “Oh, you had some flowers delivered,” or even, “Someone dropped off chocolates for you.”  There was only one year when, after noticing me walking extra slowly, he finally had something to say.  He said,  “Hello, Miss. Borkowsky, did you hurt your foot?”

If he asks the same question this year, my heart is still hopeful I’ll be able to answer, “Yes, some drunken idiot girl in stiletto heels smashed my big toe when I was out dancing with the great guy I met from my Super Bowl ad.”