We have had a tradition concerning Valentine's Day for years. Almost always, Don buys me a beautiful plant and gives it to me the evening before Valentine's Day. We have never been big on gifts on this particular holiday. Well, when he got home the evening of the 13th, he was so late, I was already fast asleep. The next morning, I wondered what he had up his sleeve because there was neither a card or a plant.
I left for work and since I am in a rather large office building consisting mostly of female employees, it was a veritable circus here. Delivery men (or women) are not allowed on our second floor, so we have an employee whose sole job was to deliver the treasures to their recipients all day long. You could see her a mile away because she would pile the vases, boxes and gift baskets high upon her cart and there was never a shortage of balloons flying above her head either.
Time after time she came and went by my station and I began to wonder if my plant was just going to be given to me that night. About three o'clock, I opened an e-mail from my husband saying,
"I hate to ask you this....but haven't you received anything from me yet?"
By that time, the delivery's had ceased and I told him no. I even walked down to the main entrance to check ...but nothing was there. Everything had been delivered and the security officer told me the last delivery was almost 2 hours earlier. I thanked her and returned to my desk.
I wrote a long e-mail to Don, thanking him profusely for what he tried to do and told him that it was not his fault...but he did need to call the florist and demand a refund.
I get off at 5 but Don had instructed the florist that I was off earlier than that. He assured me that he placed his order a week ago and did not order the "cheap" flowers. At 4:40 the front desk contact me and said there was a delivery for me. I rushed down the stairs to find a nervous delivery man trying to get me to sigh for 1 dozen rather small, unfresh roses. I could tell that the only reason some of the roses were actually still upright was because they were wired. The bow on the vase was smashed and there was only a sparse amount of filler between the roses. Knowing what my husband paid (approx.) for them, I looked the delivery man straight in the eyes and asked, "What happened to these roses?" He just nervously smiled and laughed - saying nothing. I refused delivery of them.
I raced back upstairs and into my bosses office to call Don. I told him what happened and felt so relieved when he said I did the right thing. I told him that we will take the $$ he spent for those roses and buy something fun for US this weekend!
I felt just as good as if I had the most beautiful red roses on my desk because I knew of all the trouble he went to to get them for me. That night before I fell asleep, I called him again and told him NOT to stop at the store and try to buy flowers again. He admitted that he was planning on doing that. I begged him not to because I knew the flowers (although I dearly love to get them) would be in really bad shape by then.
This morning when I got up to go to work...on the kitchen table was a single red rose in a vase that looked like this:
I bust out laughing and took the vase into the bedroom. I flipped on the bedroom light and leaned over the bed.
"Thank you sweetie for my rose!" kissing him on the cheek.
He squinted as he opened his eyes. Once in focus, his eyes widened as he said,
"That is NOT how that rose looked last night...I SWEAR!"
I just laughed and laughed! "I told you so!" (hee hee) I chirped back at him.