R.I.P.

These flowers, currently brightening the dining room, were given to me on Saturday, Feb. 13. Obviously, whoever gave them to me had some romantic notions in presenting me with this bouquet, even though it WASN'T Valentine's Day. The way in which the flowers were given and encountered, however, leaves room for wondering about subliminal messages.

First of all, the timing of my encounter with the flowers: it was just about 12 o'clock noon, and I had just gotten out of bed. I was almost awake. Before you make some remark to yourself about "what a lazy fellow he is!" (Too late, you already thought it.), I will explain that I had gone to bed at 4 AM. Before you make another remark to yourself about "that carousing no-good who stays up until the wee hours of the morning and then can't get up at a decent time" (Too late, you already thought that, too.), let me say that I had been proofreading and revising a translation job--for 30 hours, non-stop. Beginning at around 10 PM Thursday night and packing it in just before 4 AM on Saturday, I had taken a couple of 20-minute breaks for a bite to eat on Friday. By Friday afternoon, I was cruising on auto-pilot. As I sat down to eat a sandwich, I told Abbie that, at that moment, I could not, for the life of me, tell her what the subject of the document was. My mind was enveloped in a dense fog. I could remember a phrase or two, but I could not remember the subject matter.

A colleague had asked me to check the English translation of a 170-page book on premature babies she had to turn in by Friday night, New York time. Why and how she had gotten herself into this situation, I don't know. I do know the manuscript was full of errors and there were lines, paragraphs, and even pages that had not been translated. It was in that state of mind (or, mindlessness) that I had gone to bed at 4:00, and "woken up" 8 hours later at noon.

The location of the flowers: I walked into my office area and the bouquet was lying across the keyboard of my still-open laptop.

Thought #1: My computer couldn't take it, either, and had processed its last words. Flowers were laid across its keys as a final tribute.

Thought #2: Abbie had strangled my laptop and commemorated her victory over technology with a bouquet.

Thought #3: The next day being Valentine's Day and a Sunday, Abbie had made her romantic gesture a day early, putting the flowers in the one place where she knew I would find them.

Turns out #3 was correct, but I'll bet it went down to the wire with #2.

Fortunately, I didn't wake up to find the flowers lying across my chest.