Back on!

Today is the first full day of Internet service back in my own home. No more time thieving my company's Internet, no more spending time mooching off the library and nearest coffee-shop's Internet connection, no more playing solitaire and tetris on my laptop longing to update my Facebook profile or search for new craft projects.
The Internet outage did not effect me as much as it did the Love of My Life. The LOML has spent the last 18 days whining about all the knowledge circulating all over the world and he is not able to keep up with it all in the stolen moments at work. It took him a full eight hours to clear through his Blog Lines last night.
So this morning, I am getting my Internet on with my handy dandy laptop. Coffee beside me and my son happily watching Barnyard (again), I was ready to hop back on the Internet bus and catch up with the world as I see it. However, as soon as I would get into a hazy Internet trance, I would get an email messages from the LOML. Usually this is a pleasant interruption, however, I found it especially annoying because he was SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME.
I understand that we have embraced the technology in my household to a ridiculous extent. We fondly refer to our TiVo as our other child, spend most of the day texting back and forth instead of talking on the phone, and, yes, I hugged the UPS man when he delivered my brand new bread-maker. However, sending an email to a person sitting right next to you is taking that technology love to an almost creepy level.
But when I pointed this out to the LOML, he said he was only trying to spread happiness and joy with the funny articles, and thought reading it aloud to me would have been far more annoying that sending the email link.
Fine, I am horrible. Then, to add Valentine's Day bitchery on top of more Valentine's Day bitchery, I was reading the ooey gooey declarations of love on my Facebook exchanged between our coupled friends and called to him, "Don't bother with expressions of love on the Facebook." I was about to go into my diatribe about the yakfest that Valentine's Day is between our couple friends (one of which who was just recently engaged), and before I can get into it, he said, "Oh, I already did. Haven't you seen it?"
He posted, "Happy Valentine's Day. I love you. (A Statement of Fact)" So not only did he publicly declare his love for me in front of friends and neighbors, it was also an inside joke about the Office.
Once again, the LOML's attempts at sending his own version of love and affection was thwarted by my inability to understand him. I now understand that sending my a link about whether Joaquin Pheonix's recent David Letterman appearance or recipes for said new bread maker, was his version of sending chocolates or flowers.
I mean, it is a cliche that men and women do not communicate on the same level. My afternoon plan was to make him a homemade valentine, that he will no doubt except awkwardly with that, "How long do I have to let this sit on my desk before I can throw it away?" look on his face. And while other girls smiled about the flowers they received from their honeys at work yesterday, I was sad because I thought we couldn't afford frivolities like flowers. Turns out, he just thought I didn't like flowers.
So next year, we will all know better. He will know that tulips can make my heart sing, and I will know to dedicate a love song in a digital public forum to the LOML.
Wait! This is a digital public forum!

It is Valentine's Day. I love you. (That is a statement of fact.)
And I dedicate Mushaboom by Feist. It reminds me of us.