Friday, January 27, 2012
You won't believe what my husband did
I am lousy at sending things. Mailing things. Like LOUSY.
I have a ton of people in my life who are amazing at sending me things. Cards, gifts, funny little things they find along the way. Like AMAZING.
So, yesterday morning there was a knock at the door. Our sweet flower delivery woman was standing there, as she has before, delivering flowers to someone in the park. But this time, the card had my name on it: "Christine." FLOWERS! FOR ME! Eeeee!
The card was not signed. It just said, "You're the best!" It was obviously written by one of the women at the flower shop. My mind immediately went to about six different friends who may have sent them. It's the kind of thing they do. Heck, I even have one friend who sent us an anonymous gift card to an adult shop to help us prep for Sexuary. Nothing surprises me anymore. My friends = AWESOME!
Anywho, I'm staring at these flowers and have a slight moment of, "I need to FaceBook this so the random person out there knows I got them and am enjoying them. Also, it's probably going to make my husband feel a little crappy as I swoon over flowers he didn't send me."
I FaceBook it. I enjoy the flowers as I notice them throughout the day.
My husband gets home and says, "So, you like the flowers?"
Alright. Let's get one thing clear. I do pretty well at being therapeutic. I work my arse off for my marriage. But I'm also human. Instead of feeling very excited they were from him, I felt completely deflated. I felt like the whole day of enjoying them (and secretly really, really wishing they had been from him) was stolen from me. I then was having a very difficult time being excited. Of course, anytime you have a big feeling you immediately start to get defensive and everything blows out of proportion. I was upset the card was so platonic and vague. If I were going to get flowers from him, I would want and expect a very personal card. Maybe mention Sexuary? Perhaps a private joke? Heck, use my nickname ... or stop by the flower shop and fill the card out yourself so I know it's your handwriting!
Yeah. This really sweet gesture ended up being not quite so much. It was partly his thought process and then fueled and steam rolled by the massive emotions I was having at discovering they actually WERE from him.
In case you ever thought I was anything even an inch above normal, um ... no.
Sooooooo ... this morning I woke up and started getting on about my day. Didn't even notice anything was amiss. Another knock at the door. Same sweet lady, "Well, Christine, I'm back again!"
I had not noticed the flowers were gone from the kitchen. There she stood, holding the exact same arrangement, but this time the card was from his own hand.
He took them back into town, apparently hauled tail across town during his conference period, wrote a very personal card which made my heart swoon and paid them to redeliver the same flowers 11 miles outside of town. Because of the small cost, they would only accept cash. He was a dollar short. Had to go dig change out of his car to make it happen.
The flower delivery lady and I, both, declared him to be a super amazing man who not only knew how to make things right ... but how to make them spectacular.