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Valentines, Flowers and Colds

   Written by on March 20, 2015 at 11:29 am

I am not going to give Management flowers for Valentines Day. Valentines Day is for amateurs. As a former amateur romantic, I even proposed on Valentines Day. I am now a professional in the care and feeding of Management but I have to admit I occasionally get slightly carried away.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

As a newlywed, I brought home flowers every day. I love giving Management flowers. Then I learned every day is too often. There needs to be a surprise factor. After you give your bride flowers for the 387th consecutive day, she will not be surprised. “Yeah, thanks, stick it in the vase with the other ones.” Surprise is good, but if you wait too long between flowers, you lose the surprise value and instead will hear, “What did you do this time?” Flowers are for romance, never as an apology. When I screw up and need to apologize, I have found groveling on my knees to be much more effective than flowers. Besides, as an apology the number of flowers needs to barely exceed the offence or the offence will be raised to account for the number of flowers. This is a cosmic truth that I learned in my pre-Management days. If the lady considers your offence to be a three-rose infraction and you send three dozen, you will be permanently convicted of a three-dozen rose offence. Nothing you can do will ever get this straight; you may as well confess to a three-dozen infraction and get it over with. I use flowers for romance. Groveling, begging and crying are for infractions, that way they won’t ever be confused.

Management’s favorite flowers are daffodils. Eight years ago, I planted 32,000 daffodil bulbs in the front yard. That’s right, 32 thousand. As I said, I get a little carried away sometimes.

They serve a dual purpose. Every spring she is reminded that I adore her. Every spring there are more blooms, which is also romantic. “Love grows as the flowers in spring.” Their other purpose is life insurance. If she is ever forced to bury me in the yard (as she occasionally promises or threatens) she will be reminded of me 32,000 times every spring.

I have a cold. To make things worse, I am a man and I have a cold. Man-colds are much more severe than women-colds. Women are tough. When they have a cold they carry on as if nothing is wrong. Of course, women also give birth to children and are back on the job in several days or weeks. Then, they will have another one, sometimes three or four. If I ever pass an object from my body that big you can guarantee I will be out of commission for months or years. As my grandmother used to say, “If men had to carry every other child, no family would ever have more than three children.”

Back to my man-cold. Man-colds are severe, debilitating and require days of bed rest and care. Watch any man with a cold. First, we announce to anyone who will listen, “I have a cold.”

Then we will share our symptoms. No one has ever had a cold like mine. This is a cosmic event. The same man who will look at his bleeding stump after running his hand through a table saw and say “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about hitting that thumb with a hammer again” will be in bed with a cold and require constant nursing. Man-colds are bad news. If we continue to work, we apply for a purple heart. If we stay home, we expect our wives, who probably have the same cold, to take care of us.

I have a man-cold. Condolences (to me or Management) may be sent the address below.

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