Conscientious objector

So yesterday was the day everyone couldn't stop talking about except for me. I worked until 9 o'clock on a living in post about my favorite criminal couple but I took a break in the afternoon to go buy myself some fancy flowers. Even if, no, especially if you work with flowers- it's nice to get some that are non-work related.  Nicolette had a charming flower stand on Bedford Ave but I just missed her so I took my $20 bill and found a massive floral painting at a junk shop around the corner. Everlasting flowers for valentine's day? I'm pretty taken with it.

I also squeezed in some victorian flower girl scraps and made do with my two week old 'nations above. They've become my dirty little floral secret- they last until the end of time and are just as cheap and ruffly as can be. I've been listening to love songs in the manner of Sam Cooke when I'm feeling happy and Patsy Cline when I'm feeling sad. I'm working on making peace with romance, even if it's the Estella from Great Expectations sort. A boy who is both straight and not a family member cooked me dinner recently and I didn't even flinch. Baby steps.