My eyes are twinkling at the possibility, zooming in on the bouquet of pretty red and yellow roses waiting in the Toronto Sun mailroom. They must be for me, I think, rather logically as they're lying directly near the Tanya Enberg mail slot. It's also one year ago when my boyfriend and I started dating and although we haven't picked an exact date to celebrate, the floral arrival makes perfect sense. I can almost smell them, feel their velvety rose skin, and imagine typing madly away on deadline while the pleasant fragrance fills my work area. Each time I look over at them, I'll smile. Anxiously anticipating the handing over of the flowers, the mail room staff load me up with other packages that seem highly irrelevant when there's a bouquet of sweet-smelling stuff sitting right smack in front of me. Then comes the clipboard. Wait ... this can't be right! The clipboard only gets handed to me when all of my mail has been unloaded and I have to sign for it. What about the flowers? Can't they see them? What's wrong with this picture? Then reality sets in. The flowers are not for me. They are for a co-worker who's celebrating her one-year anniversary with her boyfriend today. My entire body sighs. Head back up to the office where, instead of fragrant red and yellow roses, I get hit with the smell of my cafeteria lunch - a bouquet of chicken and rice. ...
Anytime
My eyes are twinkling at the possibility, zooming in on the bouquet of pretty red and yellow roses waiting in the Toronto Sun mailroom. They must be for me, I think, rather logically as they're lying directly near the Tanya Enberg mail slot. It's also one year ago when my boyfriend and I started dating and although we haven't picked an exact date to celebrate, the floral arrival makes perfect sense. I can almost smell them, feel their velvety rose skin, and imagine typing madly away on deadline while the pleasant fragrance fills my work area. Each time I look over at them, I'll smile. Anxiously anticipating the handing over of the flowers, the mail room staff load me up with other packages that seem highly irrelevant when there's a bouquet of sweet-smelling stuff sitting right smack in front of me. Then comes the clipboard. Wait ... this can't be right! The clipboard only gets handed to me when all of my mail has been unloaded and I have to sign for it. What about the flowers? Can't they see them? What's wrong with this picture? Then reality sets in. The flowers are not for me. They are for a co-worker who's celebrating her one-year anniversary with her boyfriend today. My entire body sighs. Head back up to the office where, instead of fragrant red and yellow roses, I get hit with the smell of my cafeteria lunch - a bouquet of chicken and rice. ...