This past Valentine’s Day I knew I deserved a choice of cuisine that may not be considered delectable by many. But it was a feast I deserved after publicly bullying Hubby into my first ever bouquet of flowers in five years.
Was it worth it?
Even after karma tried to take me down.
On Valentine’s Day around noon the flower delivery man came in with a bouquet of flowers for our circulation manager, Penny Mathiowetz. The staff gathered around the bouquet and “oooohed” and “ahhhed” as she was the first one to receive Valentine’s Day flowers.
We marveled at the thoughtfulness of her husband as he had handwritten the card, which was a clear indication to us women that he had purposely handpicked the bouquet by going into the flower shop.
We were still admiring her bouquet when moments later the delivery man arrived with a second wrapped bouquet. He set it on Penny’s desk, offered a farewell pleasantry and left.
I was still ogling over Penny’s bouquet and didn’t pay much attention until Penny told me the second bouquet was for me.
“Shut up!” I yelled at Penny.
“It is!” she said smiling.
“Show me the card,” I challenged.
Sure enough, my name was written on the card.
I unwrapped the bouquet to find 12 long stem red roses in a vase with a simple, understated card that read, “Love, Hubby.”
Penny and I were making so much noise over the bouquet that the staff who had returned to their desks to continue working came out to see where the fire was.
Once they realized what all the commotion was about they joined in. I’m sure you could have heard us on the street!
I proudly took my flowers over to my desk and displayed them behind my computer, situated just right so that whenever I looked up from my computer I could read the card. My co-workers asked me to thank Hubby for them as every time they walked by my desk they “stopped to smell the roses.”
As soon as I had my head screwed on semi-straight, I texted him a huge thank you. I put a picture of my roses on Facebook pouring out my love for Hubby.
He was unusually silent.
I figured he was probably busy and thought no more about it. In all actuality, I think he knew I’d get what I deserved.
Unfortunately, because I was as giddy as a crow with a french fry, I was paying little attention to the fact that what you sow, you shall reap.
Later that day when I went to take pictures of an event I must have still been walking on cloud nine. Which explains why when I stepped off the curb I began to do a jig and crashed to the ground with all the grace of a refrigerator falling down a flight of stairs.
Page 2 of 2 - I laid there for a moment wondering if that really happened. Then I laid their another moment to assess my injuries. I didn’t seem to have any searing pain besides the palms of my hands that were beginning to burn.
As luck would have it, Doreen Tyler, also at the event and carrying a camera, rushed over.
“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” she asked as I stood up to smooth my rumpled, now soaking wet clothing.
“I’m fine. Just a little embarrassed,” I told her.
After assuring Doreen I really was fine and as soon as I made it to the safe confines of my car I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
I did neither until several days later when I was no longer stiff and sore. I wished I could have seen myself, arms flailing before I landed.
One thing is for certain–Karma won on Valentine’s Day and metaphorically stuffed the crow down my throat.