Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream. (lost_angel) wrote,
Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream.
lost_angel

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The Incompetent Romantic: Adventures in Not-So-Victorian Mississippi

On Valentine's Day this year, zordac bought me flowers for the first time, ever. I don't remember exactly what they looked like, but I remember their being beautiful, truly. I was very impressed that he'd made such a tasteful selection.

I think they were tulips.

It's kinda sad that I can remember how overjoyed I was to get them but remember nothing of what they actually looked like.

So delighted was I to receive those flowers that I decided to press them as a keepsake. Surely I would one day gaze back on these with clouded yet cherished memory.

After a week or so of defending them from Sebastian, I took three blossoms, each of a different color and perfectly shaped, stem and all, and, in lieu of having any wax paper, folded a sheet of aluminum foil and lay the whole device between the pages of a stout old accounting textbook at the bottom of a hip-high pile in the office where the last rung of the bookshelf had broken.

I shoulda just taken a picture instead.

Five months and one repaired bookshelf later, I was stacking the books back in their original places and came upon ye olde accounting book with a tongue of shiny aluminum foil sticking out, the seed of my previous romantic endeavor. Eager to reap my new memoir from its paged furrow, I slapped the book on the desk then gently turned chunks of pages, nearing my prize.

I shoulda known something was wrong by the way it smelled.

I smelled it before I saw it, a rotten food, oily odor. By the time I got to the foil itself, the pages were sticking together and I had to peel the aluminum away from the rest of the book.

Inside it was all grey: wet, sticky and smelly grey. Instead of delicate, paper-thin flowers in soft pinks and violets whispering "romance" with their faint fragrance, I got a murky, bubbling cauldron of love. The flowers were still flower-shaped, mostly, but it was obvious this ain't goin' in nobody's scrapbook.

I balled the whole thing up and took it outside to throw away and went back inside to hunt for a pair of scissors. I returned quickly to cut the page edges out of the accounting book. The only thing lost were some definitions, chapter descriptions, and practice tests.

It reminds me of the time I left a bag of bird seed for spell packets under my dorm bed for a month while shacking up with Rickwood and came back to find a whole colony of tiny moths nesting in my bedding, hanging clothes and even my computer case.

I somehow manage to decimate plants but cultivate insects. It's a gift, really.
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