Red Roses are the poster child of Valentine’s Day.
Just accept the obligatory pic of Eleanor.
Since I work in an office environment, and Valentine’s Day fell on a weekday, I was subjected to the parading of bouquets.
Yes, I realize it is now April. No, I do not care that this post is two months past due.
To get back on track, this year the unthinkable happened.
One of my co-workers received a bouquet with
just enough far too many carnations and too many not enough roses. Naturally her husband felt slighted by the florist.
This my friends was the birth place of the all-encompassing term: Carnation Catastrophes.
A Carnation Catastrophe is something people deem as a significant inconvenience, when in reality no one gives a shit. Let’s be real, some people are swatting flies off their ration of bread. So the fact that my IPhone is slower than a stay at home mom allowing her child to order at Starbuck’s, doesn’t really reach to the higher levels of significance. Side note: Mark my words, I will not allow my children to make decisions that most adults find difficult, especially during the morning rush with a line out the door.
So what are some examples of a carnation catastrophe? Well I’m glad you asked.
- My Mercedes is in the shop, so I can’t drive to Whole Foods everyday to purchase my special bread. Beetle, are suffering from PTSD? P.S. I want my bread sliced, and where are your free samples, and why can’t I just buy half a loaf, and I understand it’s Sperlonga Saturday, but can’t we pretend it’s Cranberry Walnut Wednesday!
- My house is too warm from the heater at night so I have to sleep with the fan on and it keeps me awake. Yes I know. I should have just turned down the heater, but we had company, and frankly I’d sleep on an ice cap if you let me because I enjoy being cold at night. Bring on the earplugs.
You get the idea.
So what are some examples of real catastrophes?
- Human remains found on a waste management conveyor belt at the recycling center. Just when you think the world couldn’t get weirder, it surprises you with this Monday morning headline as you drink your Grande coffee….after you waited in line because of the indecisive 7-year old.
- Charles Manson coming up on his parole. I have no words. I literally had nightmares for weeks based on a documentary I saw about Manson’s escapades. Yes you are correct, that is a euphemism.
So spread the filler flower love.
I like to think of it as a reminder that I really have no reason to complain. My husband is notorious for telling me “Life’s good!” during my self imposed stressful situations. While it drives me insane, I appreciate his approach.
So taking a page from the “Manual on How to Live Life Like a Care-Free Man” I’ll do my honest best to keep from cursing the world for the next 36 days until I obtain my Masters. Cry me a river, right? Carnation catastrophe at it’s finest.
Oh, and someone buy the garbage man who found a body while sifting through recycled cans a Mercedes. He deserves it more than the bitch who’s schizophrenic about bread.
Ok, I swear I’m done complaining now.
Foliage and Garbage,