James has waked early. He was expecting a big day. Things were busy at the office and much depended on his efforts.

He showered and took care of his grooming (One must always present a good impression.). Quietly so as not to wake his wife he got dressed and headed downstairs. Once there he prepared his own breakfast, consumed it, placed his dishes in the dishwasher, poured himself another cup of coffee, spread some reports on the kitchen table and began to prepare himself for a series of meetings that were on his schedule.

He had almost finished his studying and note making, as well as his third cup of coffee, when his wife appeared.

“Well, you’re up early this morning,” she said.

“Big day at the office,” he said. “I needed to go over some stuff before I left. The coffee is ready.”

“Thank you,” she said. She poured herself a cup and turned to lean against the counter watching her husband’s preparations. He smiled as he seemed to finish and took his papers in hand, stacked them neatly, and placed them in his briefcase. At this point she walked over to him, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re so busy with those projects at work, I bet you completely forgot what day this is.”

He looked up, mustered indignation, and replied, “I certainly have not.”

He took his coffee cup to the dishwasher, turned around and gave her a peck on the lips. Picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. He turned and said, “I can’t believe you thought I’d forget.”

The entire drive to the office was horrible for him. He should have been rehearsing some of the points he needed to emphasize at the staff meeting. But he couldn’t. Instead, all that his mind could focus on was: What day is it?

He ignored several people who spoke as he headed toward his office. He was distracted. What day is it? In the office he summoned his secretary. “Marge, when’s my anniversary?”

She replied, “It’s in April. I’ve got it on the calendar. I can check.”

“That’s okay; don’t bother,” he said. Not the anniversary. What day was it?

He forced himself to work in preparation for the meeting that afternoon. About an hour later he summoned his secretary. “Marge, when’s my wife’s birthday?”

“It’s in November; you should know that. It’s a week after yours.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Thanks, Marge.”

All day he fretted over it. Finally, just after lunch he had an insight. Picking up the phone he called an old college friend. “Hey, Fred, listen I need you to help me out. Can you remember what day the wife and I had our first date?”

“Well, I don’t know the exact date,” said Fred, “but it was at the homecoming game.”

He thanked Fred. This was February. It couldn’t have been in February. He gave up. Recalling Marge he told her to cancel the meeting he’d prepared for in such earnest. He headed for the mall. There he purchased a bottle of perfume, a dozen long stem roses and a box of chocolate. He headed home. When his wife arrived he pointed to the gifts on the table. “And you thought I’d forgotten,” he said.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, “this is the best Ground Hog Day I’ve ever had.”

There’s a point to this story. Hey, fellows, Valentine’s Day is this week.