My daughter sends me flowers on my birthday, without fail. She also calls to wish me, but somehow, this gesture of sending something that I can see and smell is important to her. My husband thinks sending flowers is a waste of money. He has solid reasons for thinking so. One, he cannot eat them – “Why not a box of nuts instead?” For him anything to have vlaue must fulfil two conditions.
[1] It should be something good to eat.
[2] Failing that, it should be something you can sell for a profit at a future date – as in a painting or antique. For a long time, he mourned the fact we live in an apartment. “You don’t own any part of it,” he said. “And it depreciates in value.” Luckily for him, the IT boom hoisted home prices, including those of apartments. It’s amazing what people are prepared to pay for a 1000 sq. feet area with old walls around. For once, my husband is glad he has been proved wrong.
Secondly, he smells a rat in the bunch of flowers. Rats, as in cheating. Here’s why. This year, my daughter browsed the net (she lives overseas) and found a new retailer who would deliver the flowers. The earlier one has suddenly decided my area is not in the city. The new fellow took a packet in dollars for a bunch of orchids (orchids, in Chennai!) At noon on the delivery day, a messenger appeared at our door to inform us that he had no orchids. Would we accept another bouquet, instead? What was I supposed to say?
At around 10 pm, when the day had only 2 hours to go, a tired-looking guy holding an equally tired-looking bunch rang the bell. And here’s what I got. I searched the card for the name of the outfit. The first word: Super. Can’t read the second one at all. I’ll have to ask my daughter.
