Pink Eye: Nice Belated Valentine’s Day Gift, Nice Loss!

Yes, this is my eye!

Yesterday was one of the biggest Valentine’s Days in many years: Tim O’Leary, one of my best friends, got engaged to Ashley Cogswell; the Boston Celtics snapped an 18 game losing streak by beating the Milwaukee Bucks; and the first snowstorm of the year descended upon our fair city. Romance and victory were afoot in this winter wonderland! Flowers, chocolates, and cards were given to all and smiles, tears, and kisses were shared citywide. Life was good in the land of love! And amidst all these glorious Hallmark moments, what did the Big Baller get for Valentine’s Day? Pinkeye or as some like to call it Conjunctivitis!

Now, I don’t mean to rain on the parade of flowery love because I relish every romantic holiday just as much as the next single guy. No flowers, no chocolates, and no expectations! We can go sit court side at the Celtics game behind Tommy Heinsohn throwing down Bud Light like it’s going out of style. We can stare at other people’s girlfriends as they protectively cuddle; we can make jokes about the cheerleader’s short pink skirts as Red Aurebach rolls over in his grave; and we can relax without a care in the world as lovers’ unattainable expectations reign supreme. And at the end of the night, we can go home, drunk and alone, wondering what went wrong this year. And this year it was conjunctivitis!

So now, the day after Valentine’s Day, I am forced to stay at home from work with an extremely contagious infection that is nothing more than a slight irritation in my right eye. My body is healthy, my mind is lucid, and yet I am unable to leave the house for fear of the evil pinkeye spreading across the world. Perhaps I should go and share my communicable disease with the community under the guise that I am Saint Valentine reborn! Actually, if I were to engage in such activities, it would be akin to Lord Jeffery Amherst not Saint Valentine. In 1763, prior to having an institution of liberal arts grandeur named after him, Lord Jeffrey Amherst distributed small pox blankets killing 80% of the Native American population, while, in 1260, prior to having a ridiculous pagan tradition named after him, Saint Valentine restored sight and hearing to the jailer’s daughter prior to being killed as a martyr following Jesus Christ. Given the option between emulating these two historical figures, however, I would rather sit at home quarantined with my pink eyes and blurry vision ruminating on how I could do better!

So what were the key insights from Valentine’s Day this year:

  1. Ashley and Tim are going to have a long wonderful life together!
  2. The Boston Celtics have a bad coach, bad players, and need to keep losing to get Oden in the draft.
  3. If you’re a hopeless romantic moved to tears watching Love Actually, then the positive aspects of being single of Valentine’s Day do not outweigh the negative aspects of being single.
  4. And finally, despite high hopes that Saint Valentine would cure the woes of my right eye in my moment of martyrdom, it appears that Spite Valentine will do nothing of the sort. Instead I am left home alone to curl up under my purple small pox blankets hoping that next year will bring a wintry mix of love and romance!

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Blogger courtney said...

funk (like matter) can neither be created or destroyed. the celtics were burdened with some serious funk to the tune of 18 losses. something had to be done, and your eye stepped up and absorbed the funk. the city of boston thanks you and i’m sure the funk will move on in a day or so to a more deserving resident.

5:52 AM  

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