My husband turns to me from the desk downstairs, his chest swelling up with pride. “Go upstairs,” he says, “and take a look on the mantle.”
“Okaay,” I say slowly.
the whole of which creates the most charming effect. He knows I’ve had a really hard day.
He later objects to my lack of enthusiasm over his floral offering. “Now you’ll know not to expect roses on Valentine’s Day!” he spars playfully.
In all fairness, this little post is just for fun to tease my husband. And to show you my Copenhagen roses.
But how about you? Do you accept cut flowers, or must they be stemmed and wrapped and accompanied by a florist’s card?