My heart sank when I saw the dark patch on the foot of my duvet this morning. Then I discovered its mate further in the tangle of sheet and duvet, a massive wet area that could only mean that one of my cats had peed on my bed again. And fuck me if I hadn’t only ten minutes before cleaned out their box and put in fresh litter. I wanted to cry.
Damn you cats, damn you.
Tears of defeat soon subsided to rage as I angrily stripped my bed — the kind of anger that weighs heavy on the body and that is only good for smashing and killing. I eyed my cats Jasper and Theo when I was done with my dirty work. They huddled together under the coffee table watching me for any sudden movements. Who peed on my bed?? I demanded. No answer. Theo looked the guiltiest. I grumbled an empty threat of stuffing and mounting him before seeking out the Spray & Wash from the kitchen.
The rage took a while to subside. I was late to work and the look I gave all my coworkers was a hearty don’t fuck with me. Then I lost myself in a cup of coffee, two Advils, a spirited G-chat conversation, and my iTunes.
Around 1 pm I got a phone call on my work line. The extension flashed that it was the front desk calling. “You have a package here,” the receptionist said.
What? A package? I wasn’t expecting a package. How strange.
The route it takes me to walk to reception means that the desk is in full view as I approach. Instead of some nondescript cardboard box or envelope awaiting me, I was met with the sight of a rectangular base of cellophane and tissue paper cradling two dozen roses of reds, oranges, pinks, and vermilions.
Were they for me? Were the cats trying to apologize?? I stared at the card in shock, blushing as red as the flowers. Yes, they were definitely for me. There was no mistaking my name typed on the rectangle of paper dangling from a brown bow.
“Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. XO”
Woah. Someone sent me flowers. Ms. K sent me flowers. But wait, I never get flowers. I am like the girl who always gets picked last for team sports only. But now it’s like I got an enviable top draft. Me? Me?? I got a little teary eyed. The receptionist smirked at me as I gathered them in my arms, blushing deeply.
This is the first time in my life a lover has sent me flowers. Seriously. As my best friend Dennise put it:
“Wow, she doesn’t want you to die AND she sends you flowers. I think my bones may be taking a shine to her . . .”