My husband is really good about getting me flowers for anniversaries, and Valentine's day, etc.
I am really bad about accepting them. I hate the idea of him dropping a chunk of cash on something that, while thoughtful, appreciated, and lovely, is ultimately going to die within the week. Perhaps, if we had unlimited funds, I'd be more graceful about it; but until then, I prefer something I will actually use, and not something I'll just watch die.
I know. I'm awful. If he happens to do it, and I haven't told him not to beforehand, I am very gracious and I don't nag him about it. But if I can head him off at the pass, I will.
This week, for example, I sent him an email. I told him I knew he would probably send me flowers for our big day, but that I would prefer the type of flowers that come in a bottle (perfume) and I included the info about what I wanted.
Again, about as romantic as a box of nails.
Anyway, he surprised me by coming home early today. We had dropped off the van for an oil change and we were on our way to pick it up. I joked with him about how I had to run errands later, and said "I guess I'll have to go buy my own perfume." (Complete with eyeroll and dramatic sigh. Me and my touch of telenovela for emphasis.)
He starts pulling out his wallet. "What are you doing?" I asked, horrified that he was contorting in the driver's seat on the freeway.
He opens it up, pulls out a piece of paper, and tosses it over to me.
It's a printout of the info I sent him, the picture and place of where to get exactly what I wanted.
I'm lucky, I guess, that he didn't open the door to the car on the freeway and just push me out. I know I wouldn't blame him.
I'm extra lucky that he is such a good guy.
How could I not love that?