Nothing says autumn like the sight of the ubiquitous potted mum.
Except maybe the sound of raking leaves. And the accompanying sound of someone screaming at the top of their lungs as they realize the leaves they’ve been shoving into bags with their bare hands are filled with spiders. Possibly deadly, jumping, flesh eating spiders. Probably not, but possibly.
That is also a sure sign of fall.
So when it came time to do some flowers for my Thanksgiving table, I sent my boyfriend out with these instructions. Get some mums, and get them in fall colours. Because nothing says autumn like mums.
I swear to you I really entrusted this task to him. I sent my boyfriend out the door to buy flowers that I would need to approve of. Thinking back on it I must have been drunk.
I’ll bet you think you know how this story is going to end, don’t you? With him returning home with an armful of red roses. Or those awful flowers that are died a horrendous shade of electric blue. Or a pet rabbit.
Well, back he came an hour later with 3 bunches of mums. One in yellow, one orange and one a deep red. They were perfect. Female Viagra perfect. If men only knew. But I digress.
I wanted a simple arrangement fit for a rustic table setting. Nothing fancy and frou frou. Nothing particularly contemporary or sleek.
So I paired the mums with a couple of jugs I was going set on the table with water.
The truth is, if I had put jugs of water on the table people would have ignored them and continued to drink their cans of Diet Coke or bottles of beer anyway.
The point of all this blabbing is that you don’t need to make a big deal over arranging flowers. Just cut the stems and stick them in something. They’re flowers. Chances are they’re gonna look good.
If he only knew what would happen if he’d also learn how to properly make the bed.