Yesterday, Valentine’s Day, I decided to make a big heart-shaped chocolate chip cookie for a friend. I ended up making way too much dough so I thought, “who could use a cookie? Probably nobody since we all have sugared-out kids by Valentine’s Day afternoon.” But then I thought about my next-door neighbor. He’s a cop (excuse me, a constable. I thought they only had those in Victorian England, but that’s what’s written on the side of his patrol car). When we moved in he seemed to be a typical jerk of a cop. The first time we met was when he left a mean note on our door telling us to get the garbage that had blown out of our cans into his yard. (Nice to meet you too, sir!)
It turns out he’s just kind of shy. Yes, he never wears a shirt with sleeves when he’s off-duty. And he always has a toothpick in his mouth (which is framed by a big mustache). But he seems like he’s nice, just kind of quiet. And slightly OCD.
He only has one son who is all grown up, so it’s just him and his wife. I thought it must be sad for him not to get any cute little Valentine’s anymore. So I baked the second big heart-shaped cookie and brought it over.
He gave me the weirdest look.
I wished him a Happy Valentine’s Day and left.
Then it dawned on me this morning; did he think it was a LOVE valentine? Does he think that I have a crush on him? I didn’t have the kids make any Valentine’s pictures. They didn’t even come with me to deliver it.
Oh my gosh, I am dying.
Please Officer Roy, don’t think that I like you! Gah, this is where being nice gets me.