OK. No one has ever bought me flowers. And by no one, I mean no boy has ever bought me flowers…sure I’ve been given flowers at birthdays and graduations and what not. Until this past weekend…when Roomie bought me one dozen, red, long stem roses. They were beautifully packaged in white tissue paper with green ivory and tied with twine-like ribbon into a bow. After he handed it to me, I continued to browse through Vogue. WHY WOULD HE DO THIS? I continued looking at the magazine until Sarah yelled at me to open them. I didn’t want to look up because if I didn’t, then it wouldn’t be real. Now, I don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s fabulous to get flowers. It’s better when they aren’t from a freak. It’s best when they are from someone in which you have mutual interest. The roses are pretty to even someone who thinks roses are cliché. I’m more about hydrangeas, peonies, carnations, tulips, daisies, or sunflowers. I’m just being too picky. Either way, the roses are centered on the dining room table mixed with baby’s breath looking quite lovely. Roses from Chinatown…at least it provided some entertainment for the group.