Flash back to the first week of January 2005. My then fiance (now husband) and I had just been to the banks to do a merger of our bank accounts (whats his is mine and whats mine is mine etc) when I saw that the flower shop across the road was open. I very jokingly said, oh you should go and book my valentines day bouquet before they get too busy.
Funnily enough, the power of suggestion worked and he booked a dozen red roses, a teddy bear and some chocolates to be delivered to my office in Penrose. I had NO knowledge of this whatsoever.
Valentines day arrived and I kept getting text messages asking if I’d received anything. And I hadn’t. Nothing. I went home knowing that he’d organised something, but it had fallen flat.
He felt angry and went to the florist at lunchtime to find out what the story was to be told she was too busy and they would get there.
He went back at closing time and demanded a refund, he’d paid for a service, in advance, been their first Valentines day booking in fact, but they still hadn’t delivered.
A refund of $80 or so dollars was paid to him by the florist and he went to the supermarket where all the flowers were gone and so were boxes of chocolates. He bought me a bag of marshmellows as thats all that was left at 5pm on Valentines Day.
The day after Valentines Day, about noon, the courier FINALLY arrived with my flowers, teddy bear and chocolates. Did I accept them? After all, he hadn’t really paid for them, he’d been refunded. I didn’t accept them. I told the courier on no uncertain term exactly where he could stick those flowers, chocolates and bear and left my workmates horrified that I knew language so foul.
After this, my husband has sworn he will never do anything for Valentines day ever again. But I do love marshmellow and he did get an A for effort.
thirty days of interpretation 
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Talk about a hard interpretation to kick off this next blogging series! Usually I view myself with a mirror.
