Day 70: Daisy Chain, the sequel

 The receptionist at the company I occasionally work for is a lovely person. She’s one of those individuals who manages to be very perky yet not at all annoying — rare, I know.

A while back, she started a tradition of putting a Post-it note on each fresh pot of coffee indicating the time it was brewed. But the time stamp only took up one corner of the Post-it and there was all that wide open yellow space just screaming to be filled, so she started scribbling a little saying on each note.

These have ranged from the humorous — “Reality is for people who can’t handle drugs” — to the, well, perky — “Let the sunshine in” — to the wise — “Don’t brood. Get on with living and loving, you don’t have forever!” Reading each one is like calling your mom … if your mom was the love child of Ann Landers and David Letterman, that is.

Everyone in the office liked these notes so much, they didn’t want to toss them out with the coffee grounds. So, before you could say, “a stitch in time saves nine” (what does that mean, exactly, anyway?), they began to collect on the kitchen backsplash like little “Deep Thought” bubbles.

Last week, I asked her where she got her quotations. She said that, at first, she made them up on the spur of the moment but eventually ran out of ideas. Now, she takes some time each morning to write a few or look up quotable quotes.

I told her how much I like them and that it forces me to stop for a moment and ponder them. A welcome pause in a busy day. She said, “Exactly. That’s why I’d love to have some flowers at my desk, so everyone could stop and sniff them and be transported somewhere else for just a minute.”

Of course, you know what came next.

At lunch, I spotted a bargain bouquet and planned to leave it on the reception desk anonymously. No such luck. She caught me in the act. That’s why I didn’t include it as a true good deed last week. I didn’t think it really counted.

Today, however, is a different story. When I returned to the office after a few days away, I noticed their sad yellow heads drooping like a bunch of sleepy Swedish kids. So I tossed them out and washed out the vase.

Not a big deal, I know, but on the other hand, isn’t the cleanup phase always the least fun part of anything?

Flower power

Flower power

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