We're remodeling here at work. They're taking this big open space area outside my office, and making another small office, as well as a work space. All this is happening as we continue on with business as usual. It's a little bit noisy and distracting, but definitely interesting.
Today we're going to talk about my favorite color.
You already know this if you've been reading this blog or know me well at all. It wasn't always that way though. When I was a little girl my favorite color was light blue. In high school I was one of those girls whose favorite color was teal (Yes, as a matter of fact, I did attend high school in the 80's. Thanks for asking). At another point my favorite color was maroon. But, it's yellow now, and has been for at least 15 years or so. I don't particularly like yellow flowers, except for daffodils. Interestingly enough, I have no use whatsoever for yellow roses. That had made for interesting moments when men I've dated have tried to give me yellow roses, just knowing that they would make my day. I'm not a great actress, so I'm sure it was confusing to them when I didn't just gush over the flowers.
Actually, I remember one time in particular. . . I had been dating a guy for a little while, and we got into kind of a tiff or something. It was a bit of a rocky time, and we were both young enough and inexperienced enough that we didn't really know what do to about it all. So, I kind of gave him the cold shoulder for a few days (I'm not proud of it, but there you are). To his credit, he persisted in trying to work things out, and showed up at my door with a handful of yellow roses, sure that they would melt my heart. Poor poor guy. I was frustrated already, and then to have this man that was supposed to know me show up with a bunch of what were possibly my least favorite flowers clutched in his hot little hand - well, it wasn't pretty.
Granted, I had never told him that I didn't like yellow roses, and I had told him that yellow was my favorite color. But, still why in the world couldn't he read my mind? Honestly, is it THAT difficult?
The story has a happy ending though. That particular evening wasn't all that great, but once I had cooled down from my irrationality and unrealistic expectations, we made up and were able to do quite a bit more good dating before we decided to go our separate ways. He later married, and I can only assume that he is now blissfully happy.
Kind of like this one particular girl I know.
(In case you are wondering, Eric never made the mistake of giving me yellow roses. I learned my lesson, and alerted him to the "I love yellow but not yellow roses" paradox quite early on in our friendship.)