It hit me a little after four o'clock.

I was gonna order roses!

Ohhh, craaap.

Quick kick eldest son off the internet, and call up the florist.

She knows me. Not because I order that many flowers, 'cause I don't, but because the town is that small. And, of course, she knows the wife.

Can I still get some roses delivered in town before five o'clock?

There's a little bit of a chuckle in her response. Sure, they can do that. Don't imagine I'm the first husband to order roses at the last minute, to remember that important date early in the morning, and then just set it aside until later.

Just a quick confirmation what building I want the roses sent to, and she already knows which office. No problem.

Do I want a dozen, or a half dozen?

Well, actually, two dozen would be appropriate, but we already agreed last May that the Yellowstone trip was our annual celebration.

But the wife was thrilled the last time roses arrived during office hours. I suppose it is inevitable that women who work together would commiserate together about the inadequacies of the men in their lives (Unless, of course, the Significant Other in their life is a female, in which case they would have nothing to complain about, right?), so it's always nice to let everyone else know that at least once in a while, your man gets it right.

Better make it a dozen.

Wife played it coy when she got home, not mentioning the flowers at all. Finally, I could stand it no more and had to ask.

Did the roses arrive?

Yeah, they did. By 16:30, in fact. She was pleased. But I'm sure, by the fact she didn't bring the subject up, that she knew I almost forgot.

In fact, I wouldn't put it past the florist lady to have told her...