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Two dozen roses for her at work, one for each year I didn't send her flowers at work. When she has to tell me that she wants flowers at work, over the course of this past week, I can't say that she doesn't mean anything else but, "Love you. Do it. Or I'll find creative ways to make your life Hell for at least two weeks."
Win-win. She gets to show her co-workers, who have been getting roses for years, that she's not married to a reerun. I keep a healthy chunk of my ass intact.
It's not a Holiday: it's a guilt bank for women.
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