The grinch who stole Valentine's Day

So I have to say I'm afraid I may have let my emotions go too far yesterday. K had sent me flowers at home on Monday, but I was at work. I called my apartment office yesterday (Tuesday) morning to ask if they could take them to my apartment that day, since the office opens after I leave for work and closes before I get home. I was told to fax a signed request for them to do so. I did it immediately. This was just after 10 a.m. yesterday.

So when I got home last night, I was pretty perturbed to see that there were no flowers in my apartment. I called the office and left a message on the emergency line so I could speak with someone that night. A maintenance guy called me shortly after, but he said there was no way that he could get into the package room because he didn't have a key. (More frustration.)

I then called the office to express this to the voicemail. I said I was upset because the package had arrived on Monday, so I called first thing Tuesday to have it brought to my apartment. I had immediately sent the fax as requested. I said, "I understand that it's not your job to deliver my packages to my apartment, but at the same time, your office is called 'resident services.'" I said since the office hours didn't work for my schedule, I had no other choice but to ask them to deliver it for me. I said it wouldn't be a big deal if it was any other kind of package, but my boyfriend had spent time picking the flowers out and spent money on them. The longer it takes for me to get them, the less I will see them before they die. I said, "I hope your office workers are at least enjoying them, because I have no idea what they look like." *blushing*

The thing is, when I get really frustrated or angry, I cry. I hate it. It makes me feel like people will think I'm weak or some big baby who cries when she doesn't get her way. But that's not it. It's just what has always happened to me when I'm angry. And what really sucks is that when you're really fired up, the last thing you want to do is cry because then it projects something totally different than what you're feeling or sometimes even different than what you want to project.

So I found myself sitting on my living room couch crying because I knew K had sent me these flowers and spent money on them. Since I'll be gone this weekend, if the flowers were in my apartment when I get home Wenesday (today), I would only be able to enjoy them one night at home because I'm leaving Thursday straight from work. And I'll be gone until Tuesday. The flowers could be dead by then, for all I know.

I couldn't understand why I was crying about the damn flowers! I mean, there are people who would love to have flowers waiting for them in the office. Just the fact they had them would be enough. I know that, and I did then. What was bothering me most is that I knew K had spent money on them and wanted me to have them, and they were sitting in an office dying. He had gone to all that effort to do something really nice for me, and it just wasn't working out.

So I talked to K after he got out of the gym, and he was kind of frustrated about it, too, but he said it would be fine and I could get them the next day. He said I should bring them with me to Louisiana (won't it be fun guarding a vase in the passenger's seat for five hours, at least one of which will be in city traffic?). He told me the flowers should be fine, though, because they were in a box. That made me feel very relieved because it wasn't like they'd be in a vase already bloomed and dying.

I waited today outside the office to pick up the flowers, and I drove to work so I would get there on time. At least this way I can enjoy the flowers today and tomorrow, and possibly take them with me to Louisiana. We'll see. Anyway, the office people were nice to me. I'm guessing they hadn't gotten my message yet. I called K to thank him for the flowers, and I told him I felt bad about the message I had left. I told him I knew I would feel bad later when I was leaving it, but I didn't care at the time. He said, "No, you had a good point. You were right. You had to be a little of a bitch to get your point across." Which made me feel better. The worst thing I said in the message was the resident services thing and the "I hope the office workers are enjoying them" part. Part of me still wonders if I should send an "I'm sorry I'm a jerk" card to them or something... I can only hope they'll just forget about it eventually and not throw a bag of dog poop into my apartment or something like that.