"What's that?" pointed my husband.
We rushed over there to find a long rectangular box with a familiar trademark and the logo of Hermes, a Greek god.
"FLOWERS!" I cried.
After grabbing the box right out of my husband's hands I rushed into the house. Of course I knew they were for me.
Together we opened it and then looked at each other with certain chagrin. All the flowers were wilted and stressed. The rose buds hung loosely and their petals were brown edged with burns.
It was a hot day. We had been in the mountains for half of it. Our front door faces west and gets a nice round of sun for part of the afternoon. Certainly they had been delivered and left on the concrete for much of that time.
My husband prepared the flowers; clipped off the ends and arranged them in the enclosed beautiful glass vase. I added the contents of the "fresh" pack, and placed them on our dining room table.
"So hon," I asked the man, "when I tell them thank you do I also tell them that they were in bad condition?"
"Good question," he responded.
In the end, we decided that our daughter, Karmyn, and her husband, Dave, had paid a company for their promise of a specific service. The company needed to know what happened to their promise.
In the meantime, the bouquet responded to the water and what must be a packet of miracle powder. By the 2nd day the alstroemerias had perked up to be rather striking and the stems had lifted the roses. I called Karmyn to relay that the colors were divine and it was an attractive bouquet after all. Still brown edged petals, yet a very pleasing display.
She said she had E-mailed them but had not heard back. I told her that was fine and I was happy and she should not worry about it anymore. The roses had not changed from their loose bud stage, but their colors were vibrant and their stance had improved and it was a very happy profusion of pink.
* * * * *
I immediately called Karmyn to thank her again.
"What? They sent a new bouquet?" She was surprised. "I figured my E-mail just was ignored as no one responded to it. I guess they read it!"
So, the question was to be or not to be a moaner and groaner? The answer is Be.
These flowers were so pretty that I am moaning and groaning still. In a delightful way.
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I also got a a beautiful hanging basket of purple petunias for my patio from my daughter Jennifer. My present from daughter Amanda is due to arrive any day. His name will be Zekiel -- and he is number eleven grandchild.