I Heart Flowahz
Back in the day, long ago, when I was young, cute and single, I didn't care much for cut flowers. They seemed a waste of time, money, and beauty. I mean, they always died, didn't they? Of course, that's when I was getting a bouquet or arrangement every month or two, mostly from people I did not care for and would never date, so I could afford to be idealistic and dismissive.
Now that I'm older and wiser, I really love flowers. I love getting them. I don't care from whom. Rhuemy-eyed old geezer in the elevator that stands just a little too close? I'll take those roses. Sweaty, grimey troll in the grease-covered overalls, smelling strongly of garlic? Thanks for the daisies!!! Unfortunately, no one gets me flowers anymore.
EXCEPT. . .
On my birthday.
Thank you Unca Douggles.
And a surprise visit, on VD.
(Excuse the crappy cell phone shot - Yes, that is quite a vase. Yes, that is quite a mess on my shelf. You should see my desk. And yes, that is a crappy, wilted rose given to every staff person from FatCatLawFirm. Pretty cheezy, no?!)
I heart flowers. Even if they are wasteful. That's my dirty little secret.