Monday, May 9, 2011

For Mothers Everywhere. But Mostly my Own.

Here's how it happened:

Step 1 - Order flowers to be delivered for Mother's Day. 

Step 2 - Realize that flowers cannot be delivered to an isolated Montana ranch on a Sunday. (Not for less than three digits, anyway.) Monday delivery will suffice.

Step 3 - Sunday: Speak with Mother on Mother's Day. Make no mention of the flowers, so as not to spoil the delayed surprise on Monday.

Step 4 - Monday AM, suddenly remember the part of the conversation where Mom said she'd be going out of town for a few days to visit friends at the lake. Cross fingers and hope the flowers arrive before she leaves.

Step 5 - Monday, late AM: Receive call from FTD telling me that the Montana region does not have the flowers used to make the bouquet I chose. Have difficulty understanding the Eastern Indian accent on the phone, but understand the difficulty of finding certain warm-weather flowers in the icy Tundra of Montana. Agree upon a substitution. 

Step 6 - Monday afternoon: Receive ANOTHER call from FTD telling me that the Montana region is OUT OF FLOWERS. All of them. Montana is out of flowers. Montana won't be getting any more flowers until Tuesday. Double check address, realize that they had it wrong. Resigned to a Tuesday delivery. Hope they get the address right.

projected (because it hasn't happened as of this writing, this is how I see the future happening):

Step 7 - Tuesday AM: flowers arrive at ranch in MT.

Step 8 - Tuesday PM: Evening weather turns sour; flowers are struck with chill and frost, begin withering process.

Step 9 - Wednesday AM: After no human presence for a day, local wildlife starts sniffing around the house. A deer cautiously approaches the flowers on the step, thinking it may have found a snack. After an exploratory nibble, the deer realizes that the flowers are frostbitten and wilted: not tasty at all. Deer runs off.

Step 10 - Wednesday day: sun comes out, weather is nice and warm. However, without any water, the wilted slightly nibbled upon flowers scorch in the sun, withering further.

Step 11 - Thursday AM: The deer, being a stupid and forgetful creature, sniffs at the flowers again, thinking that they may be food. However, after nibbling on the wilted frostbitten sun-scorched and thoroughly untasty flowers, the deer expresses its discontent by urinating upon the flowers.

Step 12 - Thursday afternoon: neighborhood dogs wander through the yard, exploring. They find the deer-urine-soaked flowers, and proceed to send a warning to the deer by establishing territory the only way dogs know how: by also peeing on the flowers.

Step 13 - Thursday PM; Mom arrives home to discover flowers. 


So if you're reading this, Mom, THAT'S why I gave you late, dead, wilted, nibbled-on piss-covered flowers for Mother's Day. 

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