This morning I packed up the POS and cash drawer and now we’re officially closed. Super sad. Tomorrow morning I start at the other mall. It’s probably gonna suck.
I have done six so far, the others with names for friends and family, spending about two hours on them altogether. I have a sore spot on one of my fingers from the handle, so I wrapped it in some duct tape. Hopefully that will help some. But I’m probably done for the day anyway. It’s on to filing my taxes after this.
Thank you to my handsome husband for the lovely flowers he hid in my office.
pressed between pages
waiting to be remembered
petals leaves and stems
Sometimes when it’s slow at work I color. But we don’t have much of a selection of highlighters to go with the black permanent markers.
Today’s Daily Post prompt:
You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?
If there’s no card, I’m going with the florist made a mistake.
Ian doesn’t get me fresh flowers, at my request. I’m not a fan. I have been known to call them a waste of money. They don’t last long. They add to clutter. And most of all, Kitten absolutely cannot resist their allure.
When I’ve gotten flowers, we have to keep them in our room for their own protection, which means we hardly see them to appreciate them. And it’s inevitable that Kitten will sneak in to destroy them and spill their water, whether it’s behind one of us when we go to grab a pair of socks or when Abby doesn’t shut the door all the way–usually after grabbing a pair of socks.
Maybe the problem isn’t flowers, but socks.
Okay, I’ll suspend my disbelief and assume that the bouquet really is meant for me.
It’s probably from my mother. In this case, it’s some strange flower or some special vase, if it’s not a bonus gift for something she purchased online. They’re not for any special reason, just because the opportunity presented itself. That’s how she rolls. Every few weeks I get a text that a surprise is on its way. Last time it was a 3D inflatable pool, complete with red and blue goggles. Pretty cool, actually.
If I were still making pizzas, my boss would be a safe bet. She used to send me chocolate lava cakes when my depression was bad, but there’s a florist next door now. I don’t think she’d have gone to that expense for anything but my birthday, though.
Nah. Probably just a wrong address.