Rob just doesn't understand the value of flowers. And I'm not referring to the super-expensive, professionally arranged variety (which even I question every Valentines Day), but just the grocery store assortment labeled 'filler flowers' you can pick up for under $10 everyday (read: spontaneous, unexpected, romantic).
I gave up on waiting to receive surprise flowers and adopted the mantra of 'I don't need a man to buy me flowers. I'll treat myself because I'm worth it. And then I'm going to buy me a right hand ring.' But by the time I reach the register, I'm just annoyed by the injustice of buying my own flowers. The bouquet just becomes an arrangement of my resentment. But resentment can be a beautiful thing in the morning at my kitchen window.
Friday, June 26, 2009
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